


burning on the edge of somethin' beautiful

by ravenreyamidala



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Allusions to Canon-Typical or Worse Queerphobia, Allusions to Parental Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Brief Discussion of Infertility and Miscarriage, Butt Plugs, Cock Rings, Dacryphilia, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Depersonalization as a kink??, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Exhibitionism, Fisting, Heat Sex, Hurt/Comfort, I keep finding kinks in this i haven't tagged for, Intersex Male Omegas, Jewish Jack Zimmerman (alluded to), Knotting, Lactation Kink, Light BDSM, M/M, Male Lactation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Miscommunication, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Multi, Nipple Play, Nursing Kink, Object Insertion, Objectification, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Original Character(s), Panic Attack, Pining, Potentially Dubious Consent re: the prior exhibitionism, Rimming, Sex Toys, Somnophilia, Spanking, Spitroasting, Therapy, Vomiting, alpha/beta/omega, and this fic happened, because there wasn’t any before, do you ever just look at a list of kinks and ask yourself why you're like this, i just wanted to write mpreg for bitty parse, is is exhibitionism if it's on the phone, superfecundation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-04-23 05:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 71,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenreyamidala/pseuds/ravenreyamidala
Summary: Kent and Bitty need to get better at talking.Or alternatively, how Kent Parson retires, gets engaged, makes plans to start a family, moves cross-country, and tries to navigate a newly-budding polyamorous relationship with his fiance, Eric Bittle, and their mutual ex, Jack Zimmermann. Even for a five-time Stanley Cup winner, it's a lot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfdesertedstreets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfdesertedstreets/gifts), [Khashana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/gifts).



> thank you thank you thank you parse posse. this wouldn't exist without you. 
> 
> thank you to denzi, and rare, and linnea and carys (100x) for the sprints! thank you thank you thank you julia for betaing/cheer-reading!! your comments kept me warm on lonely cold nights. 
> 
> (inspiration derived from how halfdesertedstreets portrays kent's family, as well as his hometown being ithaca--there are other things i can't remember right now which definitely have influenced this fic! please do let me know if something strikes you as clearly inspired by another work-- there are 70k words of this that i will not go through again because then i won't publish this for another half year lol.)

“I’m retiring,” Kent tells Bitty, three days after winning the Stanley Cup for the fifth time.

“Hmm, sweetpea?” Bitty murmurs sleepily, burrowing deeper into the mattress.

Kent reflects ruefully that he really should know better than to try to talk to Bitty about anything serious before eight am, after all these years of sleeping together. But Kent’s excited-- sue him if he wants to share the news with the most important person in the world as soon as possible.  

“I’ll tell you later,” Kent decides.

Except Kent gets distracted with his Cup Day and paperwork, and Bitty visits his college buddies for the Fourth of July while Kent goes to Ithaca to visit his family for his birthday (the Skype sex is _fantastic_ , if rather rushed), and then he’s organizing a surprise party for Swoops, and then it’s August, and he’s holding a press conference to announce his retirement, and Bitty’s got that look on his face when Kent comes home, the one that means no blueberry pie for at least a month and maybe even sleeping on the living room couch for as long.

“Why did you tell the whole world you were retiring before you told me?” Bitty finally says.

Oh. Kent had forgotten, but that’s not the most pressing issue now. The way Bitty’s expression slowly grows more unsure, and his limbs shake with suppressed fidgeting.

“Can I hug you first?” Kent asks, fingers itching to touch Bitty, do anything to make that pinched, nervous look disappear from his face.

Bitty nods, and Kent crosses the living room in long strides, wrapping Bitty up in his arms. The shaking is even more obvious with Bitty pressed up against him like this.

“I...you were the first person I told, babe,” Kent says.

“No,” Bitty started.

“You were the first person, but you were sleeping, and I thought I’d let you sleep and tell you later, and then I just...forgot,” Kent explains meekly.

Bitty chuckles wetly, hiding his face in Kent’s chest.

“Lord, you must think I’m so silly, getting worked up like this. I just...felt out of the loop,” Bitty says, voice muffled. He doesn’t add _and it hurt_ but Kent and Bitty have been together for years, not to mention all the therapy Kent’s been doing. He knows Bitty.

“I’m sorry, babe, I’ll try to be better,” Kent soothes, hugging Bitty tighter.

“I should be used to it, it’s nothing new for you,” Bitty dismisses. Five years ago, Kent had blown up at Bitty for a similar statement, but they both know better now.

“This isn’t like me forgetting to tell you about getting groceries or getting the car oil changed. You’re allowed to feel sad about this. I just want to make sure you know I didn’t do this on purpose, and that I always want you to be the first person to know about any major life changes,” Kent says.

“You’re been my emergency medical contact for two years,” Bitty says abruptly.

Kent blinks.

“I...know?” he tries, confused.

Bitty pulls away and walks into the kitchen, where he fills a glass of water from the tap and passes it to Kent. Kent makes a face at the glass -- Vegas tap water tastes like ass -- but he dutifully takes a sip before setting the glass down on the granite counter.

“What do you want for dinner?” Bitty asks, pulling out a pan.

“Bitty,” Kent says, because they both know each other’s patterns.

Bitty puts the pan down carefully and turns to look at Kent.

“I know that making me your emergency medical contact was too risky before you retired, but I don’t want to find out from fucking Swoops if something’s happened to you, you’re _my_ boyfriend,” Bitty finally says, face blotchy.

“Shit,” Kent swears. “Bitty, I made you my emergency medical contact after my Cup Day.”

Bitty chokes out a laugh.

“Kent, baby, you have to start talking to me more,” Bitty manages to say.

“Uh, so is this a good time to say I wanna have a baby with you?” Kent says, sheepishly.

“I ain’t impregnating anyone before marriage,” Bitty replies automatically.

There’s a beat as they both process this, before they look at each other in unison, from opposite ends of the kitchen island.

“Did you just--”

“You want--”’

“Yes,” they both say simultaneously.

“So is that a yes to the baby or that you were proposing?” Kent hedges.

“Both, you silly goose,” Bitty chuckles, before coming around the island to plant a smooch on Kent’s lips.

“Okay, but I want a better proposal,” Kent bargains.

“I think we ought to practice making a baby first, make sure we’re good at it first. You wouldn’t buy a car without test-driving it first,” Bitty snarks.

“Eric!” Kent says, holding a hand to his chest in faux offense. “Are you suggesting intercourse before marriage? My body is a temple.”

“Kent Virgil Parson, we both know you haven’t stepped foot in a church in over a decade,” Bitty scolds.

“Would you want the baby to get baptized?” Kent wonders.

“Kenneth, aren’t you getting ahead of yourself there? We have to plan a wedding first,” Bitty says, putting his hands on his hips.

“Well, actually, someone has to propose first,” Kent points out.

“All in good time, Mr. Parson, don’t you rush me,” Bitty scolds. “Now you just sit your perfect hockey butt down, and I’ll make you a grilled cheese.”

“I should probably schedule an appointment with my doctor,” Kent muses as he does what he’s told.

“Ken-doll, if you make this a shotgun wedding,” Bitty warns as he slices up a homemade sourdough loaf.

“I’d have to get the heat suppressants out of my system. I’d also like to get off the birth control sooner rather than later,” Kent explains.

“Yeah, it would be nice for you not to deal with the side effects,” Bitty agrees, bustling around, slicing up the cheese.

“Yeah, and the scent blockers,” Kent adds absently.

Bitty pauses in the middle of slathering on butter on the bread. When Kent looks up, Bitty’s zoned out.

“Eric?” Kent asks, hesitantly.

“You’re already so distracting, how am I ever going to get anything done with your pheromones in the air all the time?” Bitty complains, but Kent knows it’s not a real one.

“Eventually, there’ll be a baby,” Kent says slyly.

“Oh Lord,” Bitty exclaims, before turning back to the sandwiches.

“You could always be my trophy husband, what else are we going to use those NHL millions on?” Kent teases.

“Hush, you, I like my job,” Bitty insists.

Kent tips his head back, studying the ceiling.

“I’ll be a stay-at-home dad,” he reflects.

“Only if you want to,” Bitty puts in.

“Yeah, I think...I think I do,” Kent says, wonderingly.

“I can actually get you a ring,” Bitty says in the same tone.

“You couldn’t before?”

“Well, it’s not like you could wear it with hockey, and we couldn’t with hockey, anyway,” Bitty says idly.

“Bitty, we can hold hands when we go out now,” Kent gushes.

“I could even propose in public,” Bitty teases.

“ _Please_ do,” Kent says fervently.

Bitty pauses in pouring out tomato soup into a bowl.

“You’d want that? Shitty always talks about them being the epitome of peer pressure,” Bitty checks.

“Bitty, do you know how long I’ve had to hide you? My sexuality? I’m tired of hiding,” Kent reassures.

“Gotta get consent, sweetheart,” Bitty chirps, before turning back to fixing up the food.

The butter sizzles on the hot pan. Kent hums, fidgeting. He grabs the glass and takes a sip, forgetting the source of the water. Bitty turns around just in time to laugh at Kent’s resulting face.

“I love you,” Kent sighs.

“I know,” Bitty says, eyes soft.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to Star Wars me after proposing,” Kent protests.

“Well, I haven’t properly proposed yet, have I Mr. Parson?” Bitty replies, before the plates over to where Kent’s seated.

“Every time you say proposal without proposing is one more time you have to eat me out,” Kent says just as Bitty bites into his sandwich.

Bitty, unruffled, chews his bite slowly before swallowing. Kent’s nearly done with his sandwich when Bitty speaks.

“You say that like it’s a hardship, darling,” Bitty purrs.

Kent blushes. Years of this, and it’s still as thrilling as the first time Bitty hit on him.

“Eighteen-year-old Kent would shit his pants if I told him about my life,” Kent tells Bitty.

“It is pretty great, babe,” Bitty agrees.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” Kent murmurs, dipping the remainder of his sandwich into the tomato soup before popping it into his mouth.  

“I’m the lucky one, sweetpea,” Bitty murmurs back.

“Bitty?” Kent says, resting his head on Bitty’s shoulder.

“Yes, Kenny?”

“Let’s make a baby.”

* * *

 

It’s not that easy of course. There’s appointments and nutrition plans and Kent has to put on weight --”I can take care of that,” Bitty chirps -- and as much as retiring was a hard decision, it was the right time, Kent’s not getting any younger. There’s concern about his hips and how they’ll adjust, and Kent lasts approximately three weeks of doctors hemming and hawwing over his charts before he bursts.

“Look, this body won five fucking Stanley Cups, that’s already more than enough miracles in my lifetime. If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen. We can always adopt or get a surrogate,” Kent rants to Bitty in the car on the way back from an appointment.

“I know, sweetpea, I completely agree,” Bitty says from the passenger seat.

“I just, I want to try. They don’t-- the suppressants and birth control are still cycling out. I’m only 34, that’s not that old,” Kent grouses.

“They are being over-cautious, aren’t they?” Bitty says.

“I just wanted, like, a basic checkup and a go-ahead on, like, stopping my suppressants after two decades of being on them,” Kent continues.

“I know, sweetheart,” Bitty says.

“I just-- everything else has been planned, you know? And, like, carefully optimized or whatever. I had to run any social media posts through someone else first starting when I was eighteen, Bitty. I want to be spontaneous with you. I don’t want to be afraid,” Kent says.

“And we can do that! Look, you’ve already gotten the go-ahead to get off the suppressants, let’s just-- we’ll let nature take its course,” Bitty offers.

Kent relaxes as Bitty reaches across the gearshift to squeeze his thigh gently.

“Thanks for understanding,” Kent says as they pull up to their house.

“I love you, Kent, and even if I don’t always understand at first, I always promise to try,” Bitty reassures him.

Kent gets out of the car and starts to head in, but stops when he doesn’t hear Bitty’s footsteps behind him. He turns around, and Bitty’s still in the car, looking contemplative. Kent walks over and raps on the window. Bitty shakes his head and turns to Kent with a bright grin.

“Do you want to move closer to your family?” Bitty asks as he gets out of the car.

Kent furrows his brow as he thinks about it.

“Uh, maybe? I hadn’t really thought about it, your job is here,” Kent replies.

“Well, let me know if I should go job-hunting,” Bitty says, before walking into the house.

Kent follows him, still thinking.

“Well, we’d both discuss it, right?” he says.

“You’re right. Okay. I’m okay with whatever you decide. You’re going to be staying at home with the baby, and I want what will make you happiest,” Bitty tells him.

“I want you to be happy too,” Kent argues.

Bitty cups Kent’s cheek, looking up into his eyes.

“Kenny, you make me happy, doesn’t matter where we are. You think about it, okay? I promise I’ll be happy either way,” Bitty reassures.

Kent nods and leans down to kiss Bitty. Bitty gives as good as he gets, nipping at Kent’s lips.

“Bedroom?” Kent gasps as they break apart.

“Bedroom,” Bitty agrees.

Bitty only barely catches Kent’s grin before he’s being hoisted up and carried princess style.

“Kent Parson, you put me down right now!” he protests.

“Ehhhh...nah,” Kent decides, cheekily.

“Hrumph.”

“You secretly love it,” Kent teases.

“I’m looking forward to when you can’t do it anymore cause I’ve knocked you up with our pup,” Bitty growls lowly.

“Gotta propose first,” Kent sings.

“You brought it up! Does that mean you’re going to eat me out?” Bitty asks.

Kent dumps Bitty on the bed and crawls on top of him.

“No, I think it means you get to face-fuck me,” he answers.

“Not the best position for that,” Bitty points out.

Kent smirks, before getting off of the bed and standing at the foot.

“Well, I think you get a striptease first,” he says, taking off his shirt.

“Going a little fast for that, sweetpea,” Bitty chirps, propping himself up onto his elbows to watch as Kent slowly undoes his belt.

“Can you blame me if I want to get to the main event faster?” Kent says coyly.

“You always were a slut for my cock,” Bitty purrs, palming his dick through his pants.

Kent shucks off his pants and clambers onto the bed, moving Bitty’s hand away.

“I think I get to unwrap you,” he whispers against Bitty’s throat, before biting down.

Bitty arches into the sensation, hands flying up to pull at Kent’s hair as Kent worries the skin of Bitty’s neck with his teeth, before sucking at the skin. He pulls back only when he’s sure there’s an obvious hickey, too high to be hidden by the shirts Bitty prefers.

“Marking me, sweetheart?” Bitty asks.

“Have to make sure everyone knows you’re mine,” Kent answers.

“And what if I wanted to make sure everyone knew you were mine,” Bitty says idly, but the hand now stroking Kent’s bonding gland is purposeful in its movement.

“Before marriage, Bittle? For shame,” Kent gasps.

Bitty lets his hand fall from Kent’s nape and leans up to kiss him. They kiss lazily for a minute, hours, Bitty doesn’t know, but Kent relaxes onto him until he’s just warm, steady pressure on top of Bitty. When they pull apart, Bitty just threads his fingers through Kent’s hair, relaxing into the moment.

“This is nice,” Kent murmurs sleepily.

“Yeah,” Bitty whispers back.

“’S too bad, I really wanted you to face-fuck me,” Kent drawls out.

Bitty laughs, but neither of them move. Bitty closes his eyes and sinks into the sensation of Kent and the quiet thing in between them.

“We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together,” Kent whispers eventually, voice full of wonder and love.

Bitty just pulls him closer. They fall asleep like that, Kent fully naked, Bitty completely dressed.

* * *

 

“I think I do want to move back to Ithaca,” Kent announces one day as Bitty’s making breakfast.

Bitty knows without turning around that Kent’s got the most ridiculous case of bedhead, curls all over the place, eyes turning a soft, warm gray in the light of the sun streaming through the kitchen window, wearing the oversized hoodie Bitty has taken with him everywhere since he first got it in college.

“Yeah?” he encourages.

“It would be nice to be near my Ma, have her over or be there for her if she needs me,” Kent says, uncertainly.

“And the free babysitting has nothing to do with this,” Bitty teases.

“Well, not entirely. I’d like our kids to be close to her, and picture albums, and, like, it’s not a hockey town,” Kent tries to explain.

Bitty turns off the stove and plates the French toast before walking over to Kent and setting the food down. He rubs his hands up and down Kent’s arms, soothingly.

“Slow down, baby, you know I’ll listen,” Bitty soothes.

Kent frowns, but takes a breath. Bitty nudges a plate towards him, and Kent takes the hint, cutting up a bite and eating it before answering.

“I don’t have a lot of pictures with Ma and Iz, not since the Q,” Kent starts. “I... they’ve never made me feel guilty about it, but I want more than just a couple of pictures a year with family for our kids, you know?”

“Yeah, honey, that makes sense,” Bitty nods.

“And Ma’s getting older and Iz’s been with her for so long, and I kind of feel like, it’s my turn to be there for Ma? Izzy’s been wanting to go back to school to do her master’s, but she doesn’t want to leave Ma alone, and that’s not fair to her,” Kent continues.

“They understand,” Bitty says.

“Yeah, they do, they’re great,” Kent agrees. “I also just miss Ithaca? The leaves changing color, the snow, my childhood friends.”

“It’s not far from Rhode Island,” Bitty points out carefully.

Kent flushes and takes another bite of his French toast, carefully chewing before swallowing.

“This isn’t about Jack, I-I-I promise,” Kent stutters.

“No, no, I know it isn’t, sweetpea, I was the one who suggested that we think about this, remember?” Bitty rushes to reassure him.

Kent just nods, taking another bite.

“But, it’s not a bad thing if you want to be closer to him,” Bitty says.

Kent snorts.

“Really, Bittle? Oh, hey boyfriend, I was thinking we could uproot our lives completely and move across the fucking country so I could be closer to my ex, does that sounds like a good thing?” Kent snarks.

“Kent Parson, we’ve been together for seven years, when are you going to stop being scared I’ll automatically jump to worst-case scenario?” Bitty asks sharply.

“I don’t know,” Kent finally says, looking down at his food.

“Do you want to talk to Amanda about it?” Bitty nudges gently.

“God, I’m going to have to find another therapist if we move, don’t I?” Kent groans.

“Most definitely, Kenneth,” Bitty says firmly.

“Maybe...maybe you could come with me sometimes?” Kent offers.

“I would love to,” Bitty accepts immediately.

“And, maybe, we find someone for you too?” Kent says tentatively.

“I’m fine, honey, I don’t need a--”

“Bitty, you haven’t talked to your parents since you came out,” Kent points out.

“It’s their loss,” Bitty says, but his voice is shaky.

“It absolutely is, because you’re so sweet and funny and kind and smart and basically the best person in the world, but I know that this still hurts you. Not to mention all the shit with checking and those fucking bullies,” Kent says forcefully.

“I’m so lucky, sweetpea, I have you and a job I love and I graduated without debt, and I never thought I’d be living so openly with someone I love so much” Bitty protests.

“Bitty, what would you say to me if I were saying that?” Kent prods.

Bitty sighs.

“Eric,” Kent tries again.

“Your privilege doesn’t erase your trauma,” Bitty says dully.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I think it would be good for you to think about it. You’re going to be spending so much more time with me, you’re going to need better coping mechanisms,” Kent jokes.

“More like I’ll need fewer coping mechanisms with you around,” Bitty teases, fondly.

Kent grabs Bitty’s hand and holds it tightly.

“I never tire of hearing how much you love me, babe,” Kent says.

“I do, I love you so--”

“But I can’t be the only person you talk to, Bitty. You barely talk to me about anything deeper than an annoying coworker, and I let it go on like this because it was easy and I didn’t have the time, but this relationship won’t work if it’s just me venting to you and you comforting me. I know I love you and that you love me, but I don’t want this to be the rest of our life,” Kent says earnestly.

“It’s not that bad,” Bitty tries, shaky.

“It’s not a competition, babe. And it’s going to be hard, but we have to talk more if we’re going to have a family together. Do you want our kid to learn that it’s okay not to talk to us if they stub their toe or get their heart broken or get bullied, because someone else has it worse?” Kent says.

“That’s a low fucking blow, Kenny,” Bitty sniffs, tears falling down his face now.

“You’re right, I took it too far,” Kent concedes. “But you know I’m right. We can’t keep going like this.”

Bitty nods, before hugging Kent. They sit like that for a while, Kent rubbing Bitty’s back as he cries.

“How are you feeling?” Kent asks after a while.

“A little overwhelmed, but you’re right, Kent. I’m not okay, and I haven’t been in a while,” Bitty answers.

“I know, babe, it must be hard,” Kent says.

“I thought I was just overreacting, that it couldn’t be that bad,” Bitty says, before bursting into louder sobs.

Kent panics, patting Bitty’s head as he wonders what to say.

“I should see a therapist,” Bitty chokes out.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, we’re find you one, I’ll help you, it’ll get better,” Kent says frantically.

“Thank you,” Bitty sniffles into Kent’s shoulder.

“We’re in this together, bud, I’ve always got your back,” Kent says, before wincing at himself.

The only things he can think of to say are uncomfortably similar to pep talks he’d given as captain, but Bitty doesn’t seem to mind, so he mentally shrugs and moves on for the moment. Bitty clings to him for a moment longer before moving back and gathering up their plates.

“Lord, look at me, I’ve made such a mess out of myself,” Bitty says, out of habit, before freezing and looking at Kent.

“You’re not a mess, babe, you’re just human,” Kent soothes.

“Sometimes I wish I weren’t,” Bitty says absently, before backtracking. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just--”

“Babe, it’s okay. I get it. Emotions are fucking hard, but we gotta deal with them. I forgot to tell you I’m retiring, and I’ve been doing the therapy thing for years. We’re all works in progress,” Kent reassures.

“How am I supposed to protect you like this?” Bitty asks.

“A, I can protect myself, bud, I’ve thrown more punches than you have. B, there’s more than one way to be a good alpha, a good man. You left Georgia so you didn’t have to be what they wanted you to be. You get to make your own choices,” Kent says.

“You know, sometimes I forget that. I spent so long afraid...I guess financial independence and falling in love don’t magically fix that,” Bitty muses.

“Babe, everyone wishes it were that easy. But it’ll get better. We’re a team. We’ll figure out a game plan, and then improvise based on that,” Kent encourages.

“Were all your pep talks this terrible when you were captain?” Bitty deflects.

“Worse. So much more swearing and aggression,” Kent says with a grin, going with the subject change.

Bitty comes over to Kent and puts his hands around Kent’s neck.

“Yeah?” Bitty says, looking up at Kent through his eyelashes.

Kent carefully takes Bitty’s hands off his neck.

“We are not having sex right now. We’re going to call Amanda and ask her for a referral,” Kent commands gently.

“Do we have to? I promise I’ll do it later,” Bitty pouts.

“Bitty, you were crying like five minutes ago. Plus, the longer you put this off, the harder it gets,” Kent explains softly.

“I hate it when you’re all logical,” Bitty grumbles, crossing his arms.

“We’re going to be parents eventually, gotta learn delayed gratification sooner or later,” Kent chirps.

“Kennnnnt,” Bitty groans as he heads to the office.

Kent grins as he follows. They’ll be okay.

* * *

 

“We never did finish our conversation about Jack,” Bitty brings up, days later, after Bitty’s made an appointment to Skype a therapist in Ithaca, and Kent’s looked at some houses, and they’ve spent the rest of the time cuddling.

They’re out for dinner. Kent chooses the restaurant, some Food Network chef’s pet project that Bitty’s been raving about for weeks. Kent catches himself hesitating to grab Bitty’s hand where it’s resting on the table, before he remembers he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore and reaches out. Bitty looks up from the menu and smiles at Kent, sweet and adoring, before looking down again.

“Want me to order for you?” Kent asks, ignoring Bitty’s question in favor of rubbing circles on the back of Bitty’s hand.

“Are you sure you’re up for the challenge, Mr. Parson?” Bitty scoffs, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that a dare, Bitty-Bite?” Kent replies.

“I was thinking of a bet, actually,” Bitty challenges, taking a sip of his water.

“Terms?” Kent asks.

“Loser does laundry for the next two months,” Bitty bargains.

“Babe, that’s what housekeeping is for,” Kent points out, smiling fondly.

“Fine. Hmm,” Bitty ponders, tapping a finger against his lip.

“Winner gets baby naming rights?” Kent offers.

“Kent Parson, there is no way you’re going to carry our baby for nine months and not get 100% say in that child’s name,” Bitty scolds.

“Not even if I wanted to name the baby Wayne Gretzy?” Kent teases.

“We both know you’re just saying that to get a rise out of me,” Bitty sniffs.

“Is it working?” Kent smirks.

“Yes, bless my heart,” Bitty mumbles.

“That’s a new one,” Kent observes.

“Shut up, let me think,” Bitty grouses.

“Loser has to say yes to everything winner asks for 24 hours?” Kent tries.

“I like that one,” Bitty muses. “Yeah, let’s go with that one.”

Kent smirks. Bitty knows that look-- it’s the one that always accompanies a truly epic prank.

“But no naked stuff or sex stuff in public,” Bitty tacks on hastily.

“Safe, sane, and consensual, bud,” Kent reassures.

“I don’t see how anything like that could be a reason to fear losing, ” Bitty asks.

“It’s a friendly bet, it’s not supposed to be traumatizing,” Kent explains.

“Friendly bet? Is that what we’re calling this then?” Bitty snarks.

“Yeah, your dick in my ass on a regular basis is totally no homo, just dudes being prudes” Kent nods in agreement.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”Bitty sputters.

“But it does rhyme,” Kent says, faux-sagely.

Bitty mutters something, but Kent only catches something that sounds like morosexual. Before he can ask,  the waitress is at the table and asks for their order. Despite Las Vegas being more progressive than most places, she still turns to Bitty for a response, unconsciously responding to his pheromones. He smiles at her.

“My Omega will be ordering, right Kenny?” Bitty drawls nonchalantly.

They had discussed this briefly in the car, how open they’d be. Kent soaks in the shock on the waitress’s face as she turns to him. He doesn’t know how long he’s been waiting for this moment, but the relief and joy is tempered by an ever-present anxiety. He smiles automatically at her, the media smile Aces’ PR had carefully fine-tuned.

“Yeah, I’ll have the spaghetti carbonara, and my Alpha will have,” Kent makes a show of skimming the menu, although he did his research before they came. “He’ll have grilled mahi-mahi, but only if you can sub out the basil for parsley.”

“You’re Kent Parson, Captain of the Aces,” she says dumbly, before shaking her head and flushing. “Sorry, how rude of me. I’ll have to ask the chef if that’s okay, do you have another option in mind in case?”

Kent sneaks a glance at Bitty, who’s looking mostly smug, but Kent can see the surprise underneath that.

“Yeah, the braised lamb shank, but medium rare?” Kent says, savoring the surprised look on Bitty’s face.

“I’ll be back to let you know if that’s okay!” the waitress-- Amber, her name-tag reads-- says cheerily, before walking away.

“Looks like you know me better than I thought,” Bitty says, smiling.

“What kind of fiance would I be if I didn’t know what kind of food you like?” Kent dismisses.

“I haven’t proposed yet,” Bitty chirps.

Kent just waves at him.

“The chef says there’s no parsley, so the lamb shank?” Amber pops up suddenly, startling Bitty.

She smiles apologetically at Bitty, but then turns her focus back to Kent.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he says casually, not looking at Bitty.

“I’m impressed,” Bitty admits.

“Yeah?” Kent grins back adoringly, leaning his chin into his propped up hands.

“I like you ordering for me more than I thought I would,” Bitty says.

“Good. I like taking care of you too,” Kent affirms.

“Oh, hun, you do so much for me,” Bitty gushes.

“I try,” Kent shrugs. “But one of your love languages is food, and occasionally I like practicing my language skills.”

Bitty laughs.

“You’re such a dork,” he declares, shaking his head.

“Your dork,” Kent points out, smiling.

“My utterly adorable, precious, and funny dork,” Bitty agrees.

“I gotta whizz, be right back,” Kent says suddenly, getting up before Bitty can say anything.

“Way to ruin the moment, honey!” Bitty chirps to Kent’s retreating back.

Kent doesn’t look back at Bitty when he makes a rude gesture over his shoulder, but Bitty makes one back anyway.

Amber’s back with their food before Kent gets back, and Bitty nearly tells her to keep it on a warmer before he catches sight of Kent, hair a burnished gold in the low light of the restaurant. Bitty smiles automatically, and Kent’s answering grin lights up his face, making Bitty go warm all over.

“What took you so long?” Bitty asks as they start eating their food.

Kent finishes chewing before answering.

“Ran into a fan, you know how it goes,” he answers.

Bitty nods, and they turn back to their food, the only sound between them the clink of their silverware against the plates. Amber comes by to top up their water glasses and then to take their plates when they’re done.

“Ready to go home?” Bitty asks as he catches Kent yawning.

“No, we gotta try the dessert here, isn’t this guy really good at it?” Kent protests.

“Well, yes, but we do have all that pie waiting for us back home,” Bitty hedges.

“It’s fine, we can freeze it or just give it to the guys,” Kent says.

“I do want to try the blueberry-lime pie,” Bitty admits.

“Yeah, let’s get a whole one, have some leftovers,” Kent says as he waves Amber back over.

She takes their order and leaves. They sit and just look at each other, soaking in the moment. Bitty seems something flickering out of the corner of his eye and turns to look at it. It’s gold leaf arranged on top of the most beautiful pie he’s ever seen, with a gorgeous tarte soleil crust. Bitty slowly turns back to Kent, making eye contact with his boyfriend, who looks nervous.

Amber sets the pie down on the table and rushes off with a quick smile. Kent cuts Bitty a slice and watches fondly as Bitty carefully forks a bite and eats it.

“Good?” Kent asks.

“So good,” Bitty moans. “You want some?”

“Doesn’t seem like something you share, I’m good,” Kent replies.

Bitty takes a couple more gone-too-soon bites, before his spoon hits something distinctly not crust or pie filling.  He picks up his knife and cuts into the rest of his slice, trying to find it. When he does, he covers his mouth with his hands before he realizes they’re moving, tearing up. Looking for Kent, Bitty finds him kneeling on the floor on one knee.

“According to the terms of our wager, you have to say yes,” Kent says, voice shaky.

“You haven’t asked me anything yet,” Bitty manages to eek out.

Kent rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, fond.

“Eric Bitty Bittle--”

“My middle name isn’t Bit--” Bitty interrupts.

Kent shoots him a quelling look, lips quirking up in a half smile.

“Eric Richard Bittle, will you marry me?” Kent asks.

“Of course, Kenny,” Bitty says, and then they’re both crying in the restaurant, pie forgotten on the table as Bitty gets down to kiss Kent.

Somehow, Kent manages to get the ring from the plate. He dips it in his glass of water and dries it off before putting it on Bitty. It’s one of Kent’s Stanley Cup rings, fitted for Bitty’s finger.

“How did you get my ring size?” Bitty gasps out.

Kent gives him a look as if to say _really_ , but answers patiently.

“Piece of string around it while you slept, easy-peasy,” he says.

“Jack help you figure that out?” Bitty chirps.

“He’s good at making plays, what can I say?” Kent shrugs.

“Got tired of waiting around for me?” Bitty asks.

“You know me,” Kent replies.

“It’s too bad, my plan involved hot-air balloons,” Bitty muses.

“This is pretty great though, right?” Kent asks, a note of uncertainty entering his voice.

Bitty leans in for a kiss, because he can’t not. When he pulls back, he can see the other patrons taking pictures and whispering and knows they’re probably on their way to becoming a hashtag.

“I wouldn’t trade it for the world,” Bitty answers.

“That’s the ring from the year we starting dating,” Kent explains, running his thumb over it.

“Kenny,” Bitty whispers.

“Winning the cup was the second-best thing to happen to me that year,” Kent says.

“What was the first?” Bitty asks.

Kent leans in again and rubs their noses together. They’re still on the floor of the restaurant, and Bitty would be more embarrassed about the whole situation, but it’s such a small feeling compared to the elation bursting like fireworks in his chest.

“You, of course,” Kent tells him, before kissing him again.

* * *

 

“When should I give my two-weeks notice?” Bitty asks later, when they’re lying in bed.

He’s on his back and Kent’s plastered to his side, idly running his finger on Bitty’s chest. The air conditioner is running full blast, but they both like the pressure of a comforter, and the Vegas heat means they’re only in their boxers.

“When does the lease end?” Kent muses, digging his chin into Bitty’s collarbone as he looks up at the ceiling in thought.

“Heck if I can remember, sweetheart,” Bitty replies, gently using his hands to reposition Kent’s head flat on his chest.

“We should probably look into that too,” Kent murmurs, pressing a kiss to Bitty’s sternum.

“Is there something else you’d rather talk about, Mr. Parson?” Bitty chirps, as Kent continues to kiss the same spot.

Kent stops suddenly, making a face against Bitty’s right pectoral.

“I’m not going to change my name, Kent Bittle sounds awful,” Kent complains.

“Agreed, honey,” Bitty says immediately, shuddering.

“Bitty Parson isn’t terrible,” Kent considers.

“Except it is, and Eric Parson sounds like a cult leader’s name,” Bitty grouses, scrunching his nose.

“I guess we don’t have to have the same last name,” Kent says sadly.

“I don’t mind taking your name, sweetheart,” Bitty tells him, playing with Kent’s hair.

“But you’re right, it sounds like a B-grade movie villain name,” Kent whines.

“There’s no such thing as nominative determinism though, brah,” Bitty says, lowering the pitch of his voice to mimic Shitty even better.

“Obviously, there’s no way you’d purposefully start a cult,” Kent scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Purposefully? Are you implying I’d accidentally start one? How would that sort of thing even happen?” Bitty wonders.

“Have you seen your ass, it’s like a gift from the hockey gods, babe,” Kent leers, patting the side of Bitty’s hip.

“Hush you, you know it’s been years since I’ve played,” Bitty scolds, lightly smacking Kent’s shoulder.

“Still a pretty sweet ass,” Kent shrugs.

“We’ll still be married even if we don’t have the same last name,” Bitty says.

“I know, and the whole practice is like, just another problematic aspect of the heteropatriarchy or whatever, but knowing that doesn’t stop me from wanting it,” Kent says.

“We never did finish the bonding conversation,” Bitty points out.

“We never finish a lot of conversations, bud,” Kent retorts.

“True enough. But, uh, if that something you’d want?” Bitty asks nervously.

“Bitty, I seriously considered changing my name to Kent Bittle for months even though it’s the worst name in the world,” Kent replies.

“That’s not an answer,” Bitty says.

“Yes, I want to bond with you. It’ll be harder for you to leave me when you get tired of me being around so much,” Kent jokes.

“I will never get tired of you, stop saying shit like that,” Bitty says fiercely, before leaning down to kiss Kent.

Kent moans into the kiss, moving onto Bitty, chests touching. Bitty kisses back harshly, all tongue and teeth, until Kent relaxes into it. He yelps as Bitty flips them over, trailing kisses down Kent’s neck, then his nipples, down his torso until Bitty’s mouth reaches the waistband of Kent’s boxers. Bitty tugs them down, not bothering to pull the boxers off completely, and sucks down Kent’s dick.

“Bittyohmygod,” Kent keens, arching into the tight, wet heat of Bitty’s mouth, hands grabbing at Bitty’s hair.

Bitty takes his mouth off of Kent.

“Hands on the bed,” he commands, eyes steely.

Kent immediately lowers his hands, placing them palm down on the bed.

“Color?” Bitty continues.

“Green, fucking emerald,” Kent gasps out as Bitty fists his cock.

“Good. Let me know if that changes,” Bitty demands, before ducking down.

He gives Kent a deep suck before he’s pulling off again, trailing kisses down the inside of Kent’s thigh, until he reaches the place where Kent’s leaking slick. Bitty takes a deep breath, the scent earthy and winter-sharp. Bitty leans back.

“Flip,” he tells Kent, who does so immediately.

Without any warning, Bitty bites down on Kent’s ass, worrying it with his teeth before letting ago. He sucks at the spot, wanting to make sure it’ll bruise, before returning to Kent’s leaking cunt, gently blowing air on it, just to watch Kent squirm. Bitty takes pity and presses a kiss on Kent's inner thigh, enjoying Kent’s gasps. He presses a few more teasing kisses to Kent’s labia, before he starts licking. Bitty moans as Kent’s slick hits his tongue. His tongue is slipping in almost without Bitty intending to, Kent loosening up quicker than Bitty expected.

 _Must be the suppressants cycling out_ Bitty briefly thinks before turning back to the task at hand--or rather mouth, Bitty reflects. Then he shakes himself out of it.

Kent’s muscle loosen quickly, until Bitty’s thrusting in and out with his tongue easily. Kent pushes back into the feeling, but stops when Bitty puts a firm hand on the small of Kent’s back, holding him down.

The Bitty’s tongue-fucking Kent in earnest, in and out, til Kent is reduced to a quivering mess. Bitty presses one last kiss before moving away.

“Color?” he asks.

“G-g-green,” Kent stutters out as Bitty pushes one, two fingers in quick succession.

Kent parts easily for Bitty’s fingers, sucking them in as soon as Bitty uses the slightest bit of pressure. Bitty scissors his fingers before moving them around more purposefully. He finds the spot that makes Kent go boneless beneath him and slick gush out. Grinning, Bitty massages Kent’s prostate mercilessly, adding a third finger as he does. It slips in just as easily as the other two. Bitty rubs against the spot once more, and Kent’s cuntlips are clenching down on his fingers as Kent comes with a long wordless yell.

Kent slumps down, and Bitty grins.

“Do you want my knot now, sweetie?” he asks, tone sugar-sweet, grin lemon-tart.

Kent whines, pushing his ass insistently against Bitty’s hand. Bitty rubs it soothingly.

“I’m going to need an answer, sweetie,” Bitty says softly.

Kent grunts in frustration before moving abruptly, rearranging them so Bitty’s lying on his back with Kent straddling his hips.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes, then,” Bitty says dryly.

“Asshole,” Kent grumbles out.

They both groan as Kent sinks down on Bitty’s cock, a smooth slide down as Kent opens up easily to the intrusion.

“Think--knothead’s--more--accurate,” Bitty gasps out as Kent moves up and down, teasing Bitty, before sinking down completely until his ass is flush with Bitty’s pelvis.

Bitty goes to put his hands on Kent’s hips, but Kent slaps them away.

“Hands on the bed,” Kent orders, smirking.

“I knew you’d get back at me for that,” Bitty groans, but puts his hands down.

“Think you’re getting my back, actually,” Kent says.

Bitty opens his mouth to retort, but only moans as Kent rolls his hips. The conversation is forgotten as Kent sets a slow, aching pace, well-muscled thighs barely trembling with the strain of slowly moving up and down.

Bitty comes first, gasping at the hot, wet clench of Kent’s walls around him. Kent follows soon after, Bitty’s inflating knot pressing against his G-spot, stretching him deliciously. He collapses onto Bitty, who just rubs his back. They lie there, breaths syncing up, hearts beating against each other, as they wait for Bitty’s knot to deflate.

“So much better without a condom,” Kent eventually mumbles out.

“Lord, yes,” Bitty breathes into Kent’s hair.

Kent nods sleepily, clearly drifting off. Bitty’s not finally softens, slipping out of Kent. Bitty can feel Kent’s nose scrunch against his chest at the feeling.

“Hey,” Bitty says softly, gently shaking Kent. “We gotta clean up.”

“Don’t wanna,” Kent whines.

“Come on, champ, gotta pee if you don’t want a nasty infection,” Bitty tells Kent.

Kent flops off of Bitty.

“What happen to savoring the afterglow or whatever?” Kent grumbles.

“I’ll cuddle you all you want after you pee,” Bitty bargains.

“Ugh. Fine,” Kent groans, getting out of the bed and going to the bathroom.

Bitty follows him and uses a washcloth quickly as Kent pees. After Kent’s done, he washes his hands then slumps onto Bitty’s back.

“Sweetpea, go back to bed, I’ll be right there,” Bitty says gently.

“Promise?” Kent murmurs.

Bitty draws Kent’s head down for a kiss, soft and chaste. When Bitty pulls away, Kent follows his mouth for a moment before blinking and stopping.

“Promise,” Bitty says.

* * *

 

“Sweetpea, you’re avoiding the Jack conversation,” Bitty announces as he walks into the living room from the garage.

Kent watches from his perch on the couch as Bitty puts down his laptop bag down. Bitty’s already taken his shoes off, and Kent focuses on the sight of his toes on the blue living room carpet. Bitty sniffs.

“What’s that sm--Kent?” Bitty asks, realization dawning on his face.

“‘m in heat,” Kent mumbles, wrapping his arms around his knees.

Bitty takes a step closer, then stops.

“That’s sooner than the doctors expected,” he says instead.

“I remember,” Kent whispers.

Neither of them say what else they remember: that the sooner Kent’s heat came after weaning off the suppressants, the higher their chances of conceiving without medical intervention were.

“How are you feeling?” Bitty tries tentatively.

“I don’t know,” Kent says, forcing out a laugh that sounds hysterical even to Kent’s ears.

Bitty takes a seat next to Kent on the couch when Kent doesn’t continue talking. Kent lies down, head in Bitty’s lap as he curls up on his side. Bitty runs his fingers through Kent’s hair.

“Do you need me to grab the emergency suppressants?” Bitty asks.

Kent shakes his head.

“Sweetpea, I--I can’t read your mind. I’m going to need you to talk to me,” Bitty says, voice shaky.

Kent sighs.

“Don’t feel up to it? Okay, uh, yes or no questions okay?” Bitty asks.

Kent nods his head.

“Do you want to talk to Amanda?”

Shake.

“Are you scared?”

A moment of hesitation, then a nod.

“Okay, that’s okay, I’m a little scared too, honey, it’s your first heat with me,” Bitty babbles.

Kent nods his head.

“Kent, how long has it been since your last heat?” Bitty says, with dawning horror.

Kent curls in on himself even more.

“Kent, honey...it had to be before me,” Bitty reasons.

Nod.

“Okay, you were 27, so before you were 25?” Bitty tries.

Nod.

“Before you were 22?” Bitty asks.

Nod.

“Before the draft?” Bitty asks, in the tone of someone who is afraid of the answer.

Kent nods. Bitty stops playing with his hair, and Kent whines. Bitty starts carding his fingers through Kent’s hair again.

“Was it with Jack?” Bitty whispers.

A beat. Bitty can see Kent’s hands ball up into fists. A nod.

“That’s okay, sweetheart, I understand, you’re fine,” Bitty coos, rubbing the hand not in Kent’s hair down the part of Kent’s back he can reach.

“I can see why you’re so scared, honey,” Bitty continues. “That is a long time. We don’t have to do anything, we can just sit here and watch TV and cuddle.”

Kent breathes out. Shakes his head.

“Okay, well, we can do other things too, but I’m going to insist that we have a real conversation, bud, okay?” Bitty bargains.

Kent nods.

“You thirsty?” Bitty asks.

A nod.

“Okay, I’m going to grab you some water from the kitchen, okay, I’ll be right back,” Bitty tells Kent.

Kent shakes his head, grabbing Bitty’s arm.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re not feeling too hot, but you have to hydrate, okay? Want to come with me?” Bitty says soothingly.

Kent nods and gingerly sits up. Bitty offers him an elbow and Kent leans into him as they walk into the kitchen. After getting Kent situated at the island, Bitty grabs a water bottle from the fridge and slides it across the counter to Kent, who slowly unscrews it and takes a small sip. Bitty bites his lip before walking to Kent and carding his fingers through his hair again, standing so close they could hug. Kent just leans his forehead into Bitty’s stomach and sighs.

“I can get the suppressants,” Bitty offers again.

Kent just shakes his head.

“Do you want to nap?” Bitty asks softly.

Kent doesn’t answer right away. He leans back and takes another sip of water. Then he looks at Bitty and nods.

“Okay, let’s nap then sweetie,” Bitty says, offering Kent a hand to get up.

As they walk up the stairs, Bitty takes a sideways glance at Kent, whose face is completely blank.

_What do I do?_

Bitty lies there in bed as Kent snores softly, unable to sleep, mind racing, thinking through solutions and discarding them in the same moment.

 _Panicking, Eric,_ Bitty thinks to himself. _You’re panicking._

He thinks back to the conversation in the living room. He and Kent clearly need to talk more, but that doesn’t solve the problem they have right now. Sighing, he contemplates calling Amanda, but Kent had said no earlier, and Bitty wants to respect that. Huffing out a frustrated breath, he closes his eyes, resigned to lying in the bed until Kent wakes up.

 _Was it with Jack_ Bitty remembers suddenly, opening his eyes. He looks at the time and calculates the time in Providence. Not an unreasonable time to call. He’s sliding out of bed carefully, picking up his phone from the side table, and walking downstairs to the living room before he can fully consider the ramifications of his actions.

 _Fuck it_ Bitty thinks, before he’s dialing. Jack picks up more quickly than Bitty expected.

“Hey Bitty,” Jack greets.

“Hey Jack, how’s it going?” Bitty says, aiming for a calm voice.

“What’s going on?” Jack responds immediately, concern edging into his voice.

 _Great job, Bitty, calling a guy with anxiety and sounding anxious,_ Bitty chides himself.

“Oh, it’s not an emergency, everything’s fine,” Bitty rushes to reassure Jack.

“Clearly something isn’t fine,” Jack points out, voice flat.

“Well, yeah, but I thought we could catch up before getting into that,” Bitty hedges.

“Did you and Kent break up?” Jack demands.

“What?” Bitty shrieks, before taking a breath and listening for sounds of Kent stirring.

When none come, he tunes back into the conversation.

“--t’s going on, then?” he catches Jack saying.

“I’ll have you know we are engaged now,” Bitty says haughtily, before remembering the reason for the call.

“That’s...good...right?” Jack says, clearly confused.

“I’m not calling about that, I’m calling because I came home and Kent wouldn’t talk to me!” Bitty snaps.

Bitty gasps as soon as he finishes saying it, mortified. Jack doesn’t say anything, and Bitty starts imagining all the things Jack could be thinking.

“You know what, this was silly, I’m just going to--,” Bitty starts.

“He’s in heat, isn’t he?” Jack asks, but it’s not a question, not really.

“How did you know?” Bitty manages.

“Kenny--Kent, he got weird about them in the Q too. They don’t let you get suppressants until you’ve had a couple of, uh, of them, and I was the only one allowed over when they happened, yeah?” Jack explained.

“What do I do?” Bitty nearly begs.

“Well, that was years ago, I don’t know if--” Jack protests, but Bitty cuts in over them.

“Jack, I don’t care if it were centuries ago, I’m at a complete loss here, what do I do?” Bitty asks impatiently.

“It’s been a while, but I think this part only lasted the first day, he’s usually better the second day,” Jack hedges.

“Okay, all right, that’s good,” Bitty says, nodding even though Jack can’t see him.

“He never told me why, but uh, when I say he’s better the second day, I mean,” Jack pauses.

“Yes, I get the picture, you guys had a lot of sex, any other tips?” Bitty says impatiently.

“Uh, chocolate and lots of skin-on-skin contact and, uh, he has a praise kink?” Jack says, awkwardly.

“Jack Zimmerman, why are you using so many words for something so simple?” Bitty cries out, exasperated.

“Uh, I don’t follow?”

“Kent likes to be spoiled, I already knew that!” Bitty says.

“Yeah, uh, I guess that’s another way of putting it,” Jack says, huffing out a hesitant chuckle.

“Is there anything else I can do that isn’t something I already do?” Bitty asks.

“Um, he doesn’t-- he doesn’t like his secondary gender being objectified?” Jack says.

“What does that even mean? Of course he doesn’t, who does?” Bitty exclaims.

“Uh, when you….pillow talk, don’t say stuff about breeding him up?” Jack stammers out.

“Jack, this conversation was like getting teeth pulled without anesthesia, but that was actually helpful, so I’m going to go spoil the fuck out of my poorly-feeling fiance now,” Bitty announces, before unceremoniously hanging up.

He’ll feel guilty about that later. Kent clears his throat from behind him. Bitty freezes, then turns around slowly.

“Hi, sweetpea?” Bitty says sheepishly.

Kent leans further into the bannister. Bitty hurries over and goes to put an arm around Kent, who leans into him.

“Did you hear all of that?” Bitty asks nervously.

Kent nods, but presses a kiss to Bitty’s cheek.

“Are you mad?” Bitty says.  

Kent shakes his head. Bitty breathes a sigh of relief and helps Kent back into the bed.

Kent’s sitting up, reading a book when Bitty wakes up the next morning. Bitty stretches, then looks up at Kent, who’s smiling softly at him.

“Good morning, fiance,” Bitty says.

Kent’s smile gets impossibly warmer and more adoring. He leans down and kisses Bitty’s forehead before straightening up again.

“Good morning,” Kent says back, voice hoarse.

Bitty just lies there for a moment, watching Kent turn back to his book. He debates whether or not to bring up the day before, and Kent’s drastic change in mood.

“How are you feeling, sweetpea?” Bitty finally asks.

Kent sighs, but closes his book and puts it on the side table.

“Better, yeah,” Kent answers, wrapping his arms around his knees.

Bitty rolls onto his side and props his head up on his left hand, putting his right hand, palm-down, on the bed just shy of actually touching Kent’s hip.

“Do you feel up to talking about it?” Bitty checks in.

“Not really, um,” Kent says. “But we’re going to have to? So it would be better--I would feel better if we did it now.”

“Do you need anything before we start?” Bitty questions.

“I, uh, I already broke into my stash of emergency suppressants,” Kent explains awkwardly.

“Okay, that’s good, honey, I’m glad you did that,” Bitty says soothingly.

“Yeah, they’ll only work, it’ll be uh, tomorrow,” Kent stammers out.

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to have sex with you if you can’t even say the word, you’re clearly terrified,” Bitty admonishes gently.

“Thank you,” Kent murmurs, reaching a hand down to cover Bitty’s.

Bitty lies down on the bed more fully, to take the strain of holding himself up off of his left arm.

“Do you want to go back on the suppressants?” Bitty asks.

“No, I don’t, I just--it’s been so long,” Kent says.

“Yeah, 16 years is a long time, honey,” Bitty agrees.

“Did you have to use a calculator for that?” Kent chirps, but without Kent’s usual mischief.

“Of the two of us, who has the college degree, Mr. Parson?” Bitty says archly.

“That’s true, I got myself a college boy,” Kent muses.

“Kent, we can’t keep dancing around it,” Bitty says softly.

Kent takes a deep breath. Lets it out. Squeezes Bitty’s hand.

“It’s been such a long time, I didn’t think it would be an issue anymore,” Kent starts.

Bitty doesn’t say anything, just carefully watches Kent, squeezing his hand.

“We’ve talked about how my dad was a dick,” Kent says, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

Bitty’s eyes on him are suddenly too much, and Kent lies down, back to Bitty, bringing their joined hands to his stomach. Bitty adjusts automatically, his warmth a long line of comfort against Kent’s back.

“He, wasn’t uh, he wasn’t happy about me being omega. Uh, Amanda would call that an understatement. When I presented, my first heat, it was-- it, like, was the last straw for my mother, the way he reacted,” Kent says.

Bitty makes a soft noise, pressing a kiss to Kent’s shoulder. Kent shudders, but refuses to cry.

“I just...every time my heat hits, it’s like I’m there all over again, with him, just reliving that moment over and over and over again,” Kent whispers, voice shaky.

“Kenny,” Bitty says.

Kent doesn’t make the decision to start crying, it just happens. He tries to be quiet, but the noise bursts out of him. He curls into himself, barely registering Bitty’s soothing touches, his comforting words.

When he stops sobbing, he’s grateful for Bitty’s breaths, his steady presence, for the points of contact between them.

“Those side effects, huh,” Kent jokes, but it clearly falls flat.

“Sweetpea, you have every reason to be sad and mad and just, upset, about this whole thing. Maybe the side effects are affecting the intensity, but, like, that’s how you feel, for better or for worse,” Bitty says.

“Pretty shitty wedding vows,” Kent tries to joke again.

“Hmm, I think I disagree, sweetheart,”  Bitty replies.

“I scheduled an appointment with Amanda,” Kent says.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Bitty asks.

“I...I think it would better if I did this by myself,” Kent says. “I should be better tomorrow, but I gotta talk to Amanda about this latest thing, and it would probably be best to do it while it’s fresh, and I don’t want to have to worry about, pretending it’s better than it is.”

“Kent, you can say-- you don’t have to worry about protecting my feelings,” Bitty murmurs.

“But I do,” Kent says bluntly. “And it’ll make it harder for me to be honest with Amanda, and if I’m going to work through this, I have to be honest.”

“Okay, I just hope you know you can talk to me about anything,” Bitty says.

“I know, babe,” Kent replies. “Drive me to the appointment?”

“Of course,” Bitty says, snuggling closer to Kent.

Of course, then they have to actually get ready to leave the house, and that’s a more drawn-out process than usual. But eventually, Bitty’s dropping Kent off, watching from the car as Kent enters the psychologist’s office.

After the appointment, Kent’s closer to bouncing around like usual. He greets Bitty with a long kiss as soon as he’s back in the car, and sings along to the radio. Bitty smiles, glad to see Kent doing better.

“Feeling better?” Bitty asks, already knowing the answer from the spark in Kent’s eyes.

“Much,” Kent purrs, putting a hand on Bitty’s thigh.

“Hon, I’m driving,” Bitty warns.

“I know,” Kent says simply.

“All right, but I’m watching you, mister,” Bitty says, wary.

“What are you going to do, spank me?” Kent teases.

“Only if you beg nicely,” Bitty says dryly.

Kent’s silent for a moment. Bitty risks taking his eyes off the road in time to watch Kent swallow.

“Is that something you’d be interested in, darling?” Bitty drawls, purposefully deepening his accent.

Kent just squirms.

“What am I saying, you were just-- I’m not spanking you for the foreseeable future, babe,” Bitty says, a note of panic entering his voice.

Kent just laughs. Bitty doesn’t shoot him a dirty look, but that’s only because he’s driving and has to concentrate on not hitting something.

“It’s okay, Bitty, I’m not made of glass,” Kent reassures. “Yeah, probably no kinky sex for a while, but barring the apocalypse, I should be good to bow chicka wow wow tomorrow.”

“Who even are you? Bow chicka wow wow?” Bitty exclaims, aghast.

“It’s fun to say,” Kent shrugs.

“O...kay,” Bitty draws out, skeptical.

“I’m really okay, Bitty. Or getting there anyway,” Kent says, smiling.

“And I’m trying to believe that, sweetpea, but yesterday and then this morning,” Bitty worries.

“Yeah, about yesterday, did you call Jack or did I dream that?” Kent asks.

Bitty grips the steering wheel tighter, fingers turning white briefly before he relaxes.

“Uh, yeah, I didn’t, I didn’t know what else to do?” Bitty stammers out.

“You’re fine, was it useful?” Kent says casually.

“Do you really mean that, Kent?” Bitty asks, surprising himself.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to have a conversation about Jack for weeks and you keep avoiding it!” Bitty exclaims.

“Bitty, we’ve been having so many other conversations,” Kent points out.

“Yeah, because you keep deflecting from the Jack thing!”

“Me proposing is not deflecting, that’s just you having terrible timing!” Kent protests.

“I’m just worried, okay? We’ve been talking about everything else under the sun, and the fact that this is what you’re avoiding, I just, I don’t know what that means!” Bitty bursts out.

“Bitty, you don’t need to be jealous,” Kent says soothingly.

“Of course I don’t need to be jealous, you proposed to me, dingus, but I’d like to know how you feel about Jack, I don’t get why that’s so hard or so unreasonable,” Bitty says, voice getting higher as pitch as he continues talking.

“Okay, babe, let’s get home, and I promise we’ll talk about it, I don’t think this is a conversation we should have when you’re, like, driving,” Kent says soothingly.

“Good point,” Bitty says.

He turns the blinker on, turns into the parking lot of a McDonald’s, and parks the car, turning to Kent when he’s done.

“Okay, I’m not driving anymore, let’s talk,” Bitty says firmly.

“Babe, I just spent like an hour talking about my feelings,” Kent groans.

“I refuse to spend a heat with you without knowing this, I have to know, Kent,” Bitty replies.

“That’s not fair, Bitty, you know I love you,” Kent protests.

“I do, but I have to know if you love Jack too,” Bitty says firmly.

“Then I get to ask you the same thing,” Kent retorts.

“Of course, if you want to know,” Bitty replies calmly.

“I...do,” Kent says, looking surprised at himself.

“Well, you know I used to have a crush on Jack, sweetpea,” Bitty starts.

“And he’s my ex,” Kent points out, dryly.

“Yes, quite,” Bitty says primly.

“I...miss being a bigger part of his life?” Kent says tentatively.

“Yeah, college to real life was a hard transition, it was a totally different relationship when we weren’t living in the Haus,” Bitty says agreebly.

“But, I have you, and that’s more than enough,” Kent says firmly.

Bitty reaches out and puts a hand on Kent’s knee.

“Hon, I know that. You put a ring on it. But it’s not-- you’re not greedy for wanting more, if you do,” Bitty tells him.

“I love you,” Kent says plaintively.

“We’ve both heard Shitty’s lecture on polyamory, Mr. Parson, you know better,” Bitty scolds.

“What are you saying?” Kent asks, confused.

“Well, maybe we could...add Jack,” Bitty says tentatively.

“Like, a metamour? I’d be fine with it if you wanted to date him,” Kent says quickly.

“No, I was, well, Kent, do you still love him?” Bitty asks.

“I, never stopped, but Bitty, I’m happy without him,” Kent says.

“I know you are, I am too. But maybe, we could be happy with him too?” Bitty says.

“That sounds so complicated, it’s taken us this long to communicate properly, and we still fail epically at that,” Kent protests.

“Every relationship requires work, sweetheart, but I...don’t want to feel like, we didn’t try you know? Just sat on our laurels, and never strayed from our comfort zone again,” Bitty pushes.

“We’re trying for a baby, Bitty, that’s pretty fucking out of our comfort zone,” Kent scoffs.

“Well, but, think of the happiness from having a kid, a family. It could be like that with Jack too,” Bitty says.

“You’re such a fucking Slytherin, Bitty,” Kent groans, throwing his head back onto his seat.

“We both know I’m a Hufflepuff, Kent Parson,” Bitty says.

“Polyamory negotiations, moving cross-country, getting married, and starting a family, babe? That’s so fucking ambitious, you’re so Slytherin,” Kent points out.

“So it’s a bad time to say I was thinking of going Youtube full time, or trying to, just so I could be there with the baby?” Bitty asks.

“Bitty,” Kent laughs. “We still haven’t finished the Jack conversation.”

“How the tables have turned,” Bitty murmurs fondly.

Kent grabs Bitty’s hand from his knee and tangles their fingers together.

“You know what, we’ve done crazier things,” Kent says, the sunlight streaming through the window behind him and surrounding him in a soft halo of light.

“Let’s do this,” Kent says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! What’s the worst that could happen?” Kent muses.

“Oh, now you’ve gone and done it,” Bitty groans.

“No, hear me out, it’ll be a fun story someday,” Kent says excitedly.

“Sure, sweetpea,” Bitty says, rolling his eyes as he puts the car in gear and gets out of the parking lot.

* * *

 

“Do we have to pack?” Kent whines, two weeks later, after his heat, and Bitty handing his two-week notice.

Bitty moves the camera from where it’s pointed at the mess in the living room to Kent slumped over at the kitchen counter, covered in dust and mystery stains.

“It’s not going to pack itself,” Bitty laughs.

“We could hire someone to do this for us,” Kent points out.

“This is a great time to decide what we want to keep and not keep,” Bitty says primly.

“How dare you, each and every thing in this apartment is precious,” Kent says, affronted.

Bitty raises an eyebrow before turning on his heel and walking into the living room.

“What are you doing?” Kent calls after Bitty.

Bitty doesn’t answer, just comes back into the kitchen holding something in his hands.

“What’s that?” Kent says, suddenly wary.

“It’s one of Swoops’ jockstraps, wrapped in a grocery bag,” Bitty says, wrinkling his nose as he drops it into the trash.

“How the fuck did that get in here?” Kent asks, flabbergasted.

“This is why we need to go through our shit,” Bitty says smugly.

“Fine, you’ve made your point,” Kent groans, moving his head back into the countertop so he doesn’t have to look at Bitty.

“Annnnd, we’re using the KonMari method,” Bitty continues.

“No, Bitty, why?” Kent exclaims.

“It’s a good method, Kent!” Bitty defends.

“But it’ll take so long, and the apartment will look like a mess for so long,” Kent complains.

“Well, I want to film a video about it for my channel, so that’s that,” Bitty says, panning the camera back to the mess in the living room.

“Bitty, you know how much I hate a mess,” Kent says.

“Yes, I do, sweetpea, but the more we deal with now, the easier it is when we’re unpacking,” Bitty explains patiently.

“Ugh, I hate when you’re all sensible and shit,” Kent groans.

“No you don’t,” Bitty says calmly.

“No, I don’t,” Kent agrees, huffing.

It’s quiet while they clean, the silence only broken by the occasional reminisce and the more-common rebuke from Bitty to throw something away. Kent can almost hear an imaginary record skitter to a stop when Bitty pulls the litter box out of the back of the hallway closet.

“We could maybe get another cat,” Bitty broaches carefully.

Kent takes a deep breath. He sits up and looks at Bitty, who’s studiously looking through the camera’s viewfinder.

“Yeah,” Kent breathes out. “That could be nice.”

“Okay, because I was looking at the animal shelter’s website in Ithaca, and I saw the most adorable little girl,” Bitty says.

“What were you going to do if I said no?” Kent asks, humor barely hidden.

“Respect your wishes and not bribe you with pie,” Bitty retorts.

“You knew I was going to say yes,” Kent guesses.

“I made an educated guess, Mr. Parson,” Bitty says smartly.

Kent stands up and approaches Bitty from behind, surprising him when Kent grabs Bitty’s waist.

“Oh yeah?” Kent husks into Bitty’s ear. “Have any other educated guesses?”

“Hmm, guessing someone wants a spanking,” Bitty murmurs back.

“Punish me, Alpha, I’ve been naughty,” Kent says cheekily, before leaning his head to trails kisses down Bitty’s neck.

“You’d enjoy that, yeah?” Bitty says lowly, setting the camera down on the island before turning around and kissing Kent ferociously.

“Please,” Kent gasps out.

Bitty kisses him roughly a little longer, worrying at Kent’s lower lip before pushing him away.

“Color?” Bitty checks in.

“Green,” Kent breathes.

“Thank you,” Bitty says, absently, as he rifles through one of the kitchen drawers. “Go to the living room and strip.”

Kent doesn’t say anything, but Bitty can hear the soft thuds of Kent’s footsteps against the living room carpet and smiles. Rustling through another drawer, he finds what he was looking for and heads to the living room with it.

“Good boy,” Bitty praises when he sees that Kent’s naked already, clothes neatly folded on the couch.

Kent’s even grabbed a blanket from the wicker basket near the TV. Bitty heart warms.

“Come here,” Bitty orders Kent, who starts moving.

Bitty smiles as he leans his head up to give Kent a soft, chaste kiss. He grabs the blanket from Kent and lays it out carefully on the couch before sitting down. Kent remains standing until Bitty taps his knee. Kent immediately draps himself over Bitty’s legs, ass positioned perfectly for Bitty to rub it as he talks to Kent. The air slowly fills with the scent of Kent’s slick, and Bitty takes a deep breath.

“I’m going to spank you fifteen times, and you’re going to count each one, sweetpea,” Bitty commands, voice deceptively sugary.

Kent nods. Bitty tsks.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” Bitty says, voice steely.

“Yes, Daddy,” Kent says meekly.

“What are your safewords?” Bitty continues.

“Green for go, yellow to slow down, red to stop, Daddy,” Kent recites dutifully.

“What’s your color?” Bitty asks, rubbing Kent’s ass a little harder than he had been.

“Green, Alpha,” Kent answers immediately.

“Thank you,” Bitty says, before smacking Kent without any further warning.

“One, Alpha,” Kent counts, voice steady.

“Good boy,” Bitty says, before laying another one, this time directly over Kent’s pussy.

“T-t-two,” Kent stutters out.

Bitty delivers the next few much the same way, Kent losing more and more composure until he’s just a quivering mess, barely able to count.

“Thirteen, D-d-daddy,” Kent sobs out.

“Color?” Bitty checks in as Kent starts crying.

“Green, green, don’t stop,” Kent begs in between sobs.

Bitty delivers the last two smacks one after another, and Kent comes, back arching. Bitty rubs Kent’s now red ass through the orgasm and even after Kent’s settled. As Kent lies there, recovering, Bitty reaches for the arnica gel he got from the kitchen drawer and starts rubbing it in. After he’s done with that, Bitty encourages Kent to sit up and take a sip of water from the bottle on the coffee table.

“How are we doing, sweetpea?” Bitty asks eventually, as they cuddle on the couch.

A new blanket is wrapped around Kent as he relaxes with his back against Bitty’s chest as Bitty leans against the armrest. Kent sighs in contentment and squirms further into Bitty’s embrace.

“That was nice,” Kent murmurs.

“Yeah, Kenny,” Bitty agrees, pressing a kiss to Kent’s hair.

* * *

 

A week later, they’ve packed up the boxes and placed them on the moving truck.

“This is it,” Kent announces, as he stands in their empty living room.

“Yep,” Bitty says blankly, looking at all the places their furniture used to be, when they fell in love, where they fucked.

“That’s goodbye to this place,” Kent says, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah,” Bitty says softly.

“Remember that first night?” Kent reminisces.

“If you’re talking about me meeting you at the club, and then coming here to hook up, yes,” Bitty says dryly.

“Well, that’s a good memory,” Kent says dreamily, eyes glazing over as he remembers. “But I was talking about when you moved in.”

“You made lasagna for dinner,” Bitty remembers.

“And burned the garlic bread,” Kent laughs.

“It was fine! Once you scraped off the black bits,” Bitty protests.

“I was trying so hard to impress you,” Kent says ruefully, one side of his mouth quirking up.

“Well, that’s your ring on my finger, so I think you did an okay job,” Bitty teases, placing his arms around Kent’s neck.

Kent automatically puts his arms around Bitty’s waist, attention briefly torn away from contemplating the empty apartment.

“Just okay?” Kent murmurs, leaning down to rub noses with Bitty.

Bitty closes his eyes, leaning into Kent’s kiss. They stand there for an unknown amount of time, exchanging kisses. Eventually they pull apart, foreheads touching.

“I’m going to miss this place, because it’s where I found you,” Kent whispers. “But we’ll have a new place, one for our kids and furniture we pick out together and new memories, and we’ll fill it up with so much happiness.”

“Kent Parson, if you make me cry,” Bitty says, sniffing.

“Thought I’d try out this new thing Amanda said, you know, communicating,” Kent smiles.

They both don’t say anything about the tears in the other’s eyes, but just hug each other tighter. They pull apart when Bitty’s phone chimes.

“Well, we should get going if we want to make good time on the road,” Bitty says, quickly wiping at his eyes.

“If you ask me, Iz would love if we were late,” Kent jokes as he slings an arm around Bitty’s shoulders as they walk towards the door.

“Your mother would be ticked off, sweetpea, I’m not going to risk it,” Bitty admonishes.

The door shuts behind them, on their empty once-apartment. The sound of their laughter is faint, traveling away from the door out into the bright, sparkling world.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> most of this is already written! i'll be posting what i have and hopefully working on finishing it for the next couple of months. hope you enjoy!


	2. let me see (your peacock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent and Bitty make their way to Providence, where they have many conversations with Jack during which no one actually communicates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all, there is so much sex is this. so. much. sex. mind the tags! i've added some since posted the first chapter, since (and this is the least of my sins) i forgot to tag /daddy kink/. also. i could not think of a decent chapter title. so enjoy the shitpost of a title.

“You have got to find somewhere else to live,” Ma Parson announces one day as she walks into the kitchen.

“Why, Ma?” Kent asks from where he’s standing, pressed up against Bitty’s back as he cooks.

“I am tired of hearing you two fucking every night,” Karen says primly, grabbing one of the cookies cooling on the island and sitting down.  

“We can be quiet,” Bitty pipes up, as he frowns in concentration as he stirs his blueberry pie filling.

Kent snorts, before shooting his mother a sheepish look.

“That’s probably not going to happen,” Kent admits.

“We’ll never know if we don’t try,” Bitty chides softly.

“That’s not the only reason,” Karen interjects. “I’m used to living alone. I like having my space. And sharing a bathroom with two other people? I thought I was done with that when Iz moved out.”

“It is a little annoying,” Bitty muses, putting down his spoon and taking the pot off the stove.

Kent detaches himself from Bitty, but follows closely behind as Bitty sits next to Karen.

“We don’t want to be a bother, but we are waiting for the renovations on the house to be done. Do you have any ideas about where we could live?” Bitty asks, grabbing a cookie for himself.

“You could rent an apartment or sublet,” Karen suggests.

“I hate the apartments in Ithaca,” Kent says immediately, making a face.

“Oh come on Kent, there are a lot of good ones now,” Karen protests.

“We looked at apartments before deciding to wait out the renovations here,” Kent points on. “The kitchens suck ass.”

“Language, Kent,” Bitty admonishes.

“Fuck that,” Kent and Karen say in unison, before laughing. Bitty sighs.

“The kitchens are terrible,” Bitty says sadly. “But, we could make do.”

“Are you sure, babe? We could look into places in Syracuse, maybe,” Kent offers.

“Ugh,” Bitty groans.

“Yeah, but the kitchens are probably better?” Kent says, but his voice is unsure.

“We don’t know anyone in Syracuse,” Bitty grumbles.

“Not like we know a whole lot of people here either, no offense Ma,” Kent grumbles.

“None taken,” Karen says, eyes sparkling. “I’ll leave you guys to this then, just wanted to give you your eviction notice.”

With that, Karen left, snagging another cookie as she did.

“We should be trying to make more friends,” Bitty reflects.

“That sounds exhausting, babe, we can barely keep up with the ones we do have,” Kent points out.

Bitty munches on his cookie, brows furrowed in thought.

“We never did follow through on the Jack thing,” Bitty says casually, fidgeting with his engagement ring.

“How would we even start that conversation?” Kent asks. “Hey Jack, wanna fuck me and my fiance?”

Bitty reflexively smacks Kent on the chest, even as they both start laughing as they imagine the sheer incredulity on Jack’s face in such a situation.

“I mean, we should figure out a way to bring it up,” Bitty says.

“We have to find a place to live first,” Kent points out.

“We could visit Providence,” Bitty suggests.

“One problem at a time,” Kent teases.

“Well, maybe we could look into a temporary place in Providence, while we, uh...court Jack?” Bitty offers.

“Court? What is this, the eighteenth century?” Kent says.

“Dating sounds weird,” Bitty complains, making a face.

“You’re not wrong,” Kent agrees.

“If we’re going to do anything, we have to do it before expanding our family,” Bitty points out.

“Yeah, a baby makes _courting_ hard,” Kent jokes.

“Well, yes, they require a lot of time and energy and love,” Bitty says, voice getting lower as he slowly rubs his hand up Kent’s arm.

“They’re not the only ones,” Kent murmurs, leaning in.

“Get your own place first!” Karen yells from the living room.

Kent and Bitty pull apart before their lips meet.

“Yeah, let’s go to Providence,” Kent says finally.

Bitty beams.

“Should I call Jack?” Bitty asks, whipping out his phone.

“Probably shouldn’t surprise him, no,” Kent chirps, smirking.

“Hmm. We should probably book a hotel first,” Bitty ponders, tapping his lip with his phone.

Kent grabs Bitty by the shoulders and makes direct eye contact.

“Bitty. You use your phone in the bathroom. Stop touching it with your mouth. I kiss you on that mouth!” Kent exclaims.

Bitty grimaces and puts his phone down quickly.

“I will call Jack, you figure out all the hotel stuff or whatever,” Kent says decisively, letting his arms fall from Bitty’s shoulders.

Bitty just stands there, watching Kent expectantly. Kent just looks back dumbly.

“Call Jack?” Bitty prods.

“Oh, right!” Kent startles, grabbing Bitty’s phone and dialing Jack’s number by heart.

“You have his phone number memorized?” Bitty says casually, leaning against the kitchen island.

“Oh shut up, I have yours memorized too,” Kent snarks back.

“I would hope so, I’m your fiance,” Bitty teases, waving his ring in Kent’s face.

Kent swats at Bitty, before turning around as Jack picks up.

“Hey Jack,” Kent says as he walks away into the living room.

Bitty shakes his head fondly at Kent’s retreating back, before he goes to grab his laptop from their bedroom. He’s just about to finalize their hotel reservations before he realizes that they haven’t agreed on a date yet and nearly smacks himself with the computer out of sheer annoyance at his goof. Kent walks in just as Bitty puts the laptop off to the side carefully, tossing Bitty’s phone on the bedspread.

“How did he react, sweetpea?” Bitty asks eagerly.

“He insisted on us staying with him,” Kent answers absently, collapsing onto the bed and arranging himself so his head is in Bitty’s lap.

Bitty, biting his lip, automatically began playing with Kent’s hair, as he tried to guess from Kent’s upside down face what he was feeling.

“That’s great!” Bitty enthuses, a beat too late.

“I was just thinking about how far we’ve come since we were eighteen, you know? It was...hard, not being able to be friends for so long,” Kent says vaguely, closing his eyes.

“Yeah, I bet, hon,” Bitty says, scritching Kent’s hair.

“Well, no use dwelling on that!” Kent deflects cheerily. “He said next Tuesday would be his freest day, and that we could come in Monday evening.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Bitty says, smiling at Kent, before growing serious.

“Oh, I gotta pack for Jack’s place!” Bitty exclaims. “How long do you think we’ll be visiting, sweetheart, you should call him back and ask--”

“Well, uh, I started talking about the housing situation, and he, uh, said that we could stay for as long as we wanted?” Kent says awkwardly.

“Oh no, we couldn’t impose on him like that!” Bitty protests. “He’s used to living alone, he’ll want his space.”

“I don’t know, Bits,” Kent says doubtfully, looking up at Bitty. “I mean, yeah, he’s doing us a huge favor, but he answered the phone way too quickly.”

“You think he’s lonely,” Bitty surmises, mouth pursing in thought.

“I mean, yeah, he has the team, but you know how it is when you’re the only queer guy on the team,” Kent explains.

“That’s true,” Bitty says, moving his hands down to Kent’s temples and massaging little circles.

“Feels good,” Kent murmurs. “But, you know, this is the perfect opportunity.”

“That’s true, but we should really find a back-up plan, in case it all goes south,” Bitty points out.

“Well, the renovations should be done in March,” Kent remembers.

“Worst comes to worst, we could sublet some college kid’s apartment over break?” Bitty offers.

“That only covers half of December and like, two-thirds of January,” Kent points out.

“We could get a long-term hotel or see about temporary places in Syracuse. Maybe a Bed and Breakfast?” Bitty muses.

“That sounds like a great back up plan to me,” Kent praises.

“Thanks, sweetpea,” Bitty says, ducking his head down as he blushes. “Oh, but I have to pack--”

“Later,” Kent says, cutting Bitty off. “I think that sort of quick-thinking deserves a reward, fiance.”

“Really?” Bitty demurs.

“Oh yeah, honey, I think you deserve a good, thorough fucking,” Kent says, before methodically stripping them both of their clothes.

Kent immediately starts sucking hickeys down the side of Bitty’s neck, onto his chest. Bitty arches into the wet heat of Kent’s mouth, grabbing his hair and trying to direct him. Kent leans down and gives Bitty’s cock a gentle kiss before moving away.

“Where are you going?” Bitty whines, making grabby hands at Kent.

Kent kneels by the side of the bed and grabs his elbows behind his back, before looking at Bitty expectantly.

“Think I owe you a face-fucking,” Kent shrugs, but the gleam in his eye is nothing short of wicked.

Bitty finds himself growing harder, and he fists himself quickly before going to stand in front of Kent. At the last moment, he turns around and grabs his set of keys from the bedside table and holds them out for Kent to take.

“Drop them if you need to safeword out,” Bitty orders firmly. “Keep your hands behind your back.”

Kent nods, and with that Bitty’s slowly feeding his cock into Kent’s mouth, watching entranced as Kent’s lips stretch around him. Kent hums around him, and Bitty groans before he starts thrusting shallowing, in and out of Kent’s mouth.

“Kenny, you feel so good,” Bitty praises, petting Kent’s hair gently.

Kent just swallows around Bitty in answer, prompting Bitty to grab his hair roughly and start thrusting in earnest. Kent itches to jerk his dick, but keeps his hands behind his back obediently as Bitty fucks into his mouth, just a toy for Bitty’s using.

Bitty’s on the verge of succumbing to the tight wetness of Kent’s mouth when his phone rings. Looking over his shoulder at where the phone’s lying on the bed, the caller ID reads “Jack.” Groaning, Bitty stretches to grab the phone, answering it as he shoots Kent a look that clearly says to _behave._

Bitty’s saying “Hi, Jack,” when Kent chooses to give Bitty a deliberate suck.

“...Are you okay?” Jack asks in response to the choked off noise Bitty makes.

“Oh yeah, just stepped on a Lego,” Bitty says airily, shooting a Kent a dirty look.

Kent just looks back as if to say _who, me?_ before doing the thing with his tongue that he knows drives Bitty crazy.

“Mrs. Kent has Legos?” Jack asks, confused.

“Never mind that,” Bitty waves off, trying not to groan as Kent bobs his head. “Why were you calling, sweetheart?”

Jack makes a weird noise of his own, before clearing his throat.

“Oh, I, uh, wanted to know what baking supplies you’d need?” Jack explains.

“Look at me, I’m so forgetful, Kent was just telling me about how generous you were about letting us stay over!” Bitty exclaims.

“Oh, it’s nothing, it’ll be, uh, nice to have you,” Jack chuckles awkwardly.

“Jack Laurent Zimmerman,” Bitty admonishes, pausing to shudder as Kent deepthroats him, “You opened your home to us for an indefinite amount of time, that’s not nothing!”

“I mean, I have the room, and you’ll cook for me. I think I’m getting the better end of this deal,” Jack teases.

“Mr. Zimmerman, you’re going to have the best meals of your life while I’m there,” Bitty promises, covering the phone for a moment to moan as Kent double downs on Bitty’s cock.

“Oh, no, I mean that would be nice, but you don’t have to-- I don’t expect anything, it would be nice to have you,” Jack stammers out.

“I want to, Jack,” Bitty says warmly. “I need to take this pie out of the oven, give me a moment.”

Bitty’s barely able to cover the mouthpiece of his phone before he’s moaning as he comes, Kent eagerly swallowing every drop. Bitty sinks down onto the bed, breathing deeply for one long moment, before he’s moving Kent onto the bed, making sure the keys stay in Kent’s hands. Then Bitty grabs the lube, slicks his hand, and unceremoniously sticks a finger in Kent’s pussy as he picks the phone up again.

“Sorry about that, Jack, where were we?” Bitty says, deciding that Kent’s ready for another finger, to Kent’s approval, judging by his moaning.

“Um, baking supplies,” Jack supplies. “What’s that sound?”

“That?” Bitty laughs. “Oh that’s just Kent, he stepped on the same Lego.”

“Okay,” Jack says doubtfully. “Well, I thought it would be easier to just get some of the basics and the bigger items so you don’t have to lug so much over.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, we could order some stuff and ship it to you,” Bitty says brightly, scissoring his fingers.

Kent arches his back in response. Bitty balances the phone between his ear and shoulder as he uses that hand to hold a finger to his lips as a reminder to Kent. Kent keens a little anyway, but quieter than he usually does. The sound has Bitty’s dick valiantly twitching, somehow filling out despite the earlier orgasm.

“No, no, I want to do this for you,” Jack protests into Bitty’s ears.

Bitty rearranges the phone, dick growing almost impossibly harder at the thrill of the game he and Kent are playing.

“You’re already letting us stay at your place, I really do insist, and your kitchen could probably do with some adding to,” Bitty reiterates.

“Consider it an engagement present,” Jack presses.

“I would think that would be us staying over rent-free,” Bitty teases.

“Look, you’d use the appliances and dishes and whatever to make food for me, right? I can’t do that for you, let me do this,” Jack says soft.

“Jack, that’s just about the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Bitty manages, adding a third finger to the two already in Kent.

Kent’s making these soft sounds, little huffs, that Bitty’s pretty sure Jack can’t hear. He angles the phone away more just in case.

“Uh, I should try to say more sweet things, then,” Jack says.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re amazing either way,” Bitty praises.

He gives Kent’s dick a couple of cursory strokes, smiling in satisfaction at Kent’s resulting moans.

“So, uh, then you’ll text me a list of what you’ll need?” Jack prods.

“Oh yes, that sounds good,” Bitty says absently as he decides Kent’s stretched enough.

He’s taken his fingers out and is readying his cock when Jack pipes up.

“Oh, and Bitty?”

“Yeah, Jack?” Bitty says, distracted by the stretch of Kent’s cunt around his cock as he slowly pushes in.

“Kenny’s quieter if you give him something to suck on while you finger him.”

And with that, Jack hangs up. Bitty looks at his phone, mouth agape, before Kent squeezes around Bitty’s dick.

After that, well.

* * *

“What clothes should I pack?” Bitty ponders, standing in front of the closet.

“Definitely bring your red shorts,” Kent says from where he’s lying on the bed, scrolling through Twitter on his phone.

“Kent Parson, it is November, it’s too cold for shorts!” Bitty protests.

“Yeah, so someone has to keep you warm,” Kent points out nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

Bitty turns on his heel to look at Kent, who continues typing away on his phone for a second before realizing he’s being stared up and looks up at Bitty.

“Kenneth Parson, that is diabolical,” Bitty says, trying not to smile.

“Do you think I wore those muscle tanks in my freezing apartment for fun?” Kent asks.

“Oh my god, that’s why? I just thought you were living out your dream of being the ultimate frat boy,” Bitty says.

“Well, I mean, I wasn’t not doing that, but looking cold was the best way to get cuddles without asking,” Kent explains casually, rubbing his socked feet together.

Bitty’s across the room, about to get on the bed and cuddle Kent, before it dawns on him what Kent’s doing. He tries to glare down at Kent, but Kent just looks up with the most angelic look on his face.

“See what I mean?” Kent says smugly.

“I’m glad you learned to ask, honey,” Bitty says, giving Kent a quick peck on the lips before moving back to the closet.

“You’re packing your yoga stuff too, right? I might as well pick it up,” Kent asks, too casually.

“You just want to show off your ass in downward dog,” Bitty accuses.

“What can I say? I worked very hard on this ass, I’m going to show it off,” Kent agrees.

“Do you want to pick up some more prenatal vitamins here or when we’re there?” Bitty asks, instead of responding to Kent.

Kent bites his lip, looking down at his phone. Bitty’s looking through the closet and mentally listing what to back, and it takes him a moment to register the uncharacteristic silence. He turns to look at Kent again.

“Sweetpea?” Bitty says gently.

“What if Jack doesn’t want kids?” Kent whispers, making a halfway aborted hand gesture.

“Well, that depends,” Bitty begins, ignoring how that makes him feel, how his heart sinks as he processes that. “It’s your body, sweetheart.”

Kent puts his phone down and crosses his arms, tapping his fingers against the elbow closest to Bitty.

“It’s Jack,” Kent points out.

“And it’s your life,” Bitty says patiently.

“I want kids,” Kent says, fiercely. “I want as many as we can, I don’t-- I’m not giving that up for Jack.”

Bitty leans in, touching foreheads with Kent. They breathe in sync for a heartbeat, two, infinite, as Bitty gently rubs his hands over Kent’s legs.

“No one is asking you to,” Bitty soothes. “If Jack doesn’t want kids, that’s a dealbreaker. It’s good that we know now, sweetheart.”

“Well, it is for me, but what about you?” Kent asks.

“What about me, Kent?”

“I don’t want to make you have to choose,” Kent starts, before cutting himself off as he catches sight of the thunderous look on Bitty’s face.

“It’s not a choice. Kenny, I love you. We’re getting married. It’s you, no matter what,” Bitty says fiercely.

“Even if Jack does decide he wants kids?” Kent mumbles.

“Hon, is this about Jack wanting kids or about Jack wanting you?” Bitty asks gently.

Kent draws his knees up and puts his head into the cradle of his arms. Bitty leans in to hear him better.

“Maybe more about him wanting me,” Kent admits, voice muffled.

“I’m not doing this without you,” Bitty reassures. “I’m not going to leave you for him.”

“But it’s Jack,” Kent protests, voice heartbreakingly small.

“Would you leave me for Jack?” Bitty pushes.

“No, of course not, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Kent answers immediately. “But that’s different, you’re you.”

“Come out of there, sweetpea,” Bitty says gently, pulling Kent’s arms apart and gathering him up in a hug.

“You’re mine, Kent. You’re funny and wicked smart and kind and so sweet it makes me cry. I’ve been in a relationship with you for seven years, and we’ve had our ups and downs and I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything. Not even Jack,” Bitty murmurs, rubbing a hand down Kent’s back.

“I’m sorry, I just, sometimes I start thinking,” Kent starts.

“Shh, shh, sweetpea, I know. And you talked to me, and that was good, you didn’t let it become something bigger,” Bitty praises.

“Yeah?” Kent asks.

“Yeah, that was good,” Bitty reassures.

“I’m not going to leave you for Jack, either,” Kent says after a pause.

“I know, you said,” Bitty points out.

“Yeah, I did, but I need you to know that because you know it,” Kent pushes.

Bitty draws back from their embrace, looking at Kent’s face. Kent looks back steadily, hoping that Bitty can read his every intention from his face alone, and sighs in relief as something in Bitty’s body language relaxes. They lie in bed, curling around each other.

“Well, I know I know it now,” Bitty says gently, trying in vain to push Kent’s cowlick down.

“Good,” Kent says firmly, before yawning.

“You can’t possibly be sleepy yet,” Bitty scolds.

“What can I say, babe, it’s all this trying-for-a-baby sex,” Kent jokes, before his brow furrows.

“What’s up, sweetpea?” Bitty asks, propping himself up with his elbows to better see Kent’s face.

“It’s taking a while, huh,” Kent muses.

“Well, it’s only been a couple of months, and you were on the suppressants for so many years,” Bitty points out.

“I know, I just thought,” Kent says, hand drifting to hover above his flat belly. “I thought it would happen faster.”

“Some things just take their time, honey,” Bitty reassures. “It’ll happen when it happens. Do you want to check with the doctor?”

Kent shudders, hand falling to his side.

“Fuck no, they’re going to be all weird and invasive. ‘Are you currently sexually active, what other drugs are you taking, have you ever had a mis-’,” Kent says, before catching himself. “How many times a week do you drink? Ridiculous.”

“You haven’t had, uh, right?” Bitty says, uncertainly.

“No, no, of course not, I would have told you,” Kent says, shaking his head. “It just-- hurts to think about it. Like saying it could make it happen.”

“There’s my superstitious hockey-player fiance,” Bitty chirps, trying to lighten the mood. “I was wondering where he’d gone off to!”

“I don’t play hockey anymore,” Kent points out, something like melancholy on his face.

“Well, I’m sure you and Jack could have a pickup game while we’re there,” Bitty suggests.

“Definitely, it’s just weird to think about sometimes, how normal it is, waking up with you and not thinking about practice or eating whatever I want. I was a hockey player for so long, and I’m not anymore,” Kent muses.

“You don’t have to be playing for the NHL to be a hockey player, Kent,” Bitty says gently. “You gave it years and years and years of your life and who knows how much blood and sweat and tears. You’ve loved it longer than you’ve loved me or Jack. It’s part of who you are.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Kent says, smiling.

“It is!” Bitty insists.

“Yeah, yeah, it is,” Kent agrees.

“How do we go about this Jack thing,” Bitty wonders out loud, looking at the ceiling of Kent’s childhood bedroom.

“Kiss him?” Kent offers.

“We should try to have a conversation with him first,” Bitty admonishes, furrowing his brow in thought.

“Me and Jack were never great at that,” Kent defends, shrugging.

“Well, look at how great having conversations has been with us,” Bitty points out.

“Babe, we agreed to get married and have a baby in the same two minute span,” Kent says, laughing.

“Agreed being the keyword! We’ve gotten so much at having conversations and it’s been so good for us,” Bitty cajoles.

“I mean, I guess we could talk, but Jack’s always been better with actions,” Kent says.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Bitty comments, turning to Kent and raising an eyebrow.

“It’s just, like, I always end up swallowing my tongue and saying something wrong, you know?” Kent explains.

“I think you do a pretty good job with me,” Bitty says.

“Well, yeah, but you understand me so well, and, like, it’s harder with Jack,” Kent says, gesturing with his hands.

“I mean, it wasn’t always this easy with us either,” Bitty points out.

“Exactly! If we hadn’t had mind-blowingly fantastic sex, we probably wouldn’t have gotten to this stage,” Kent insists.

“Kent Parson, are you saying you only love me for my body?” Bitty chirps.

“Well, mostly your knot, but no, I love you for a lot of reasons, sex being the least of it,” Kent protests.

“I know, I know, I”m just teasing,” Bitty drawls.

“See, Jack would have, like, taken that the completely wrong way,” Kent explains. “I don’t know how to be clearer or, like, talk better.”

“Kent, honey, you talk fine,” Bitty soothes. “We just have to be a little patient, and Jack’s going to have to learn how to be patient and not jump to conclusions either.”

“Why can’t we just kiss him?” Kent whines. “And then we can talk after.”

“Hah, okay, Kent,” Bitty capitulates. “As long as we talk after.”

* * *

Days later, they’re lost in Providence.

Well, Kent says he just taking a scenic route, but Bitty visited Jack once or twice in college, and he’s almost a hundred percent sure that Kent’s taken at least two wrong turns.

“Sweetpea, let’s just call,” Bitty tries.

“No, it’s fine, it’s just around this corner,” Kent insists, waving Bitty off.

Bitty sits back into the passenger seat with a huff. Kent doesn’t notice, clenching the steering wheel with tight, white fists. Bitty starts texting Jack.

“Take this right,” Bitty says a few minutes later.

Kent looks over, and Bitty’s giving him one of those looks, and so Kent makes the turn. Bitty keeps directing him, and eventually they end up in the parking garage for Jack’s building. Bitty’s jumping out and popping the trunk to get their suitcase almost before Kent kills the ignition. Kent gets out and smiles at Bitty, who’s nearly bouncing.

“Excited?” Kent comments dryly.

“It’s been so long since I talked to someone our age who wasn’t you,” Bitty chirps, sticking his tongue out at Kent.

“Shot through the heart,” Kent recites, monotone. “And you’re to blame.”

“Hush you,” Bitty scolds, giving Kent a light swat on the arm. “Ring us in or whatever.”

“Bitty, this is basically the same setup as our place in Vegas--”

“Ring us in!” Bitty says imperiously, his attempts at being serious betrayed by his inability to stop fidgeting.

Kent rolls his eyes but goes and talks to the doorman, and soon they’re riding in the elevator.

“Nervous?” Kent asks, noticing the way Bitty twists his engagement ring.

“Huh?” Bitty says absently, before catching himself and taking his fingers off his ring. “A little.”

“Hey, we made a good play,” Kent says confidently. “No matter what happens, we’ll be fine.”

“That’s true,” Bitty agrees.

And with that, the elevator doors open, and they’re at Jack’s door, and Jack is there, welcoming them in.

Bitty is so immediately frazzled that all he can think to say when he sees Jack is, “Lord you’re taller than I remember.”

“Same height as always, bud,” Jack says, eyes crinkling as he smiles fondly at Bitty. “Maybe you shrunk, you seem shorter.”

“I’ll have you know I’m average size for a North American man,” Bitty sniffs.

“Babe, you’re being modest. You’re definitely above-average,” Kent leers.

Bitty flushes immediately, but Jack looks between the two of them in confusion.

“No, he’s definitely not,” Jack points out.

“Were you even in college?” Kent tsks, shaking his head.

“Jack, honey, it’s, ah, a euphemism,” Bitty explains, waving his hands vaguely.

“Huh?” Jack replies, before his face clears. “Oh, uh. Okay.”

“I’m going to go put our bags away!” Bitty announces, grabbing their baggage and moving purposefully down the hallway to their left.

“It’s, uh, the other way,” Jack says.

“Oh, that’s just where I stayed when I visited from Samwell, we’re not in there?” Bitty asks.

“No, uh, the bed is bigger in the other hallway,” Jack replies.

“Isn’t that room right next to yours?” Kent points out.

“Well, yes,” Jack admits.

“I think we’ll be fine with the smaller bed, sweetpea,” Bitty says, chewing his lip.

“No, really, that one doesn’t even have a mattress anymore, I gave it to one of the rookies,” Jack blurts out.

Bitty turns and gives Jack a long, probing look, before changing direction.

“Okay, Jack,” Bitty agrees. “I’ll just do some unpacking, you guys catch up!”

With that, Bitty disappears down the hallway on the right. Kent contemplates following Bitty, but not with any seriousness. The silence rises between him and Jack, uncomfortable.

“It’s good to see you,” Jack says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad you came.”

Kent tamps down on the hysterical laugh that threatens to burst out of him and, worse, the innuendo-laden retort.

“Yeah, me too,” Kent says casually. “Missed ya, Zimms.”

He walks around Jack’s living room, taking in the sparse decor that looked like it came out of one of Alicia’s fancy interior design magazines. There are a couple of pictures on the shelves: landscapes that Kent suspects Jack took, Alicia and Bob, Jack and his college hockey team, Jack with the Falconers, and Jack with Kent and Bitty, a picture Kent recognizes as one they took at the All-Stars’ Game a couple of years ago.

“You need more blankets,” is what Kent’s mouth says, utterly baffling Kent himself.

“What?” Jack says, politely.

“For your couch. Blankets. It’s fucking cold,” Kent grouses.

“I have a blanket,” Jack says, pointing at colorful afghan lying on the back of his couch.

“You need more. Is that even weighted? Those are bomb,” Kent rambles.

“It’s in my bedroom,” Jack says slowly, moving closer to Kent.

Kent racks his brain for something to say, but finds himself at a loss for words as he looks up at Jack. Like Bitty, he had forgotten just how tall Jack is; the reminder makes Kent’s mouth go dry, and he shifts, trying to distract himself from the growing pool of arousal in his gut.

“Are you okay, you’re looking a little flushed, bu--” is all Jack manages to get out before Kent thinks _fuck it_ and grabs Jack by the hair to yank him down for a kiss that feels like when Kent was eighteen and falling in love with Jack. It’s his skates on fresh ice, it’s--.

“Bitty,” Jack says, pulling away from Kent and looking at the hallway to their right. “Bitty, it’s--,it’s my fault, don’t be mad at Kent.’

And Kent’s heart is beating so fast he thinks it might break through his ribcage, and Bitty’s face is inscrutable, and Jack’s doing that thing with his hands that Kent remembers from the Q, and Bitty just-- walks up to them, and they back up until there’s nothing behind them but the couch and they sit, and he’s watching Bitty crawl into Jack’s lap and join their lips together in the hottest kiss Kent’s ever seen, and he’s had sex with multiple Playboy models at the same time, okay, so that’s really saying something.

Bitty pulls aways, and Jack’s dazed.

“I doubt it wasn’t Kenny’s fault,” Bitty purrs, and oh, if Kent wasn’t hard before, he is now.

“It definitely was my fault,” Kent chimes in, sneakily sitting on his hands so he doesn’t do something stupid like touch Jack and spook him, or worse, touch himself.

“I, uh,” Jack flounders, looking between them.

Kent almost wishes he could take a picture of Jack’s face right now, it’s kind of hilarious how confused he looks.

“Were you trying to protect Kent, sweetpea?” Bitty coos. “That’s very sweet of you, but covering up for him just encourages him to misbehave.”

“I’m confused-- What exactly is happening, why aren’t you mad?” Jack blurts out.

“Well, Mr. Parson over here jumped the gun a little bit, but, uh, we were wondering if,” Bitty bites his lip, the swagger from before edging out in exchange for nervousness. “We were talking, and we both wanted...this. You know.”

“You’re getting married. To each other,” Jack points out faintly.

“Yeah, but, you know, we thought why not this too? We both wanted it, and, like, it would be fun,” Kent interjects, shrugging casually when Jack looks at him. “If you were on board.”

“Right,” Jack says, drawing the word out. “I, uh. Can I think about it first?”

“Oh, swee-,” Bitty starts, scrambling off of Jack’s lap as he does. “Oh, of course Jack! Gosh, look at me, all over you without askin’ first, that is just not done. I’m so sorry.”

Jack raises his hands, as if to grab Bitty’s waist, before he drops them.

“No, no, you’re okay,” Jack insists. “I didn’t mind.”

“That’s Zimms for ‘I’m so hard I could pound nails’,” Kent snorts.

“Kent!” Bitty squawks.

“He’s not entirely wrong,” Jack admits, lips curling into a small smile. “I just-- need to think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?” Kent wheedles. “We’re two nubile young men who want to have hot, kinky sex with you and are living with you for the foreseeable future. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Lord, Kent, if you don’t stop saying that,” Bitty warns.

“What are you going to do, spank me?” Kent taunts, sticking his tongue out at Bitty.

“Now, sweetpea, you know that belongs in your head or on my dick,” Bitty comments sweetly.

“Um,” Jack says.

“Oh, or on Jack’s dick if he wants it,” Bitty amends, winking at Jack.

“That’s not-- you guys really are insatiable,” Jack notes.

“All that clean-living will do that to a guy,” Kent replies, stretching his arms over his head.

Jack’s eyes go dark, and he leans in, sticking his nose into the crook of Kent’s shoulder. Kent, startled, just lets him.

“You’re not on your suppressants,” Jack says, dazed.

“Sawesome, yeah Jack?” Bitty says just as Kent says, “Glad to see your knot hasn’t dulled your sense of smell.”

Jack just pulls Kent onto his lap and inhales into Kent’s neck. Kent squirms, and Bitty moves until Kent’s pressed between the two of them.

“Do you have any idea how good you two look together?” Bitty growls into Kent’s ear. “He makes you look so small, Kenny, he could break you in half.”

Kent just groans as Jack starts sucking at his neck, grinding down onto Jack’s lap. Bitty reaches up Kent’s shirt to play with his nipples, and Kent lets his head fall back, on Bitty’s shoulder, surrendering to their ministrations.

“He has his moments, but he submits so beautifully, Jack, you have to see it,” Bitty croons.

“Oh yeah?” Jack rasps, looking at Kent with eyes that Kent knows like the back of his hand.

Bitty doesn’t pause, just keeps up his stream of dirty talk as he slides his hands down Kent’s torso, until he’s playing with the waistband of Kent’s jeans. Jack looks at the hickey on Kent’s neck and licks his lips.

Bitty leans in, around Kent, and kisses Jack again, teeth nipping at Jack’s bottom lip. Kent takes advantage of their distraction to scent Jack, bury his nose into the junction between Jack’s neck and his shoulder, to breathe in and remember them, at the Q, scoring goals, illicit handjobs in the locker-room showers after everyone left, the elation the first time they pulled off the Parson-Zimmerman No-Look One-Timer.

And then Bitty’s pulling back, and pulling Kent off of Jack’s lap, and they’re both blinking in confusion at Bitty, who just smirks.

“I think we should give Jack some time to think it over, respect his boundaries” Bitty explains to Kent, ignoring the way Jack’s mouth drops.

Kent nearly giggles at Bitty’s sheer brazenness. He has to clear his throat before he can answer Bitty.

“Yeah, for sure, safe, sane, consensual,” Kent agrees.

“Safety first,” Jack agrees absently.

“Think we’ll take a shower, Jack, wash the road trip grime off of us,” Bitty says cheering, before dragging Kent with him to their room.

Kent chances a look back at Jack, who’s still sitting on the couch, touching his lips with his fingers.

Kent smirks. He knows Jack like the back of his hand, after all.

* * *

They’re alone in Jack’s apartment, Kent and Bitty, a few days later, and Kent’s over it. The awkward conversation, the avoidance of the question they’re all wondering about, the way Jack will barely look at Kent. It makes Kent’s skin itch, and he doesn’t know what he’s feeling, except he dislikes it. He’s being so careful, and he’s too used to talking freely with Bitty; he doesn’t remember how to make himself small, like he used to do with Jack, like he used to do with his dad.  

So he’s a little more impulsive, without Jack around to be careful around. He puts in a plug when Bitty’s busy with something or the other, clings to Bitty in general, and kisses Bitty whenever he wants. And he wants.

Oh, does Kent want.

“Is my Omega feeling neglected?” Bitty coos to Kent as he burrows closer to Bitty as they watch The Great British Bake Off. “What would make you feel better?”

“Your cock, Daddy, I need it,” Kent purrs, rubbing his cheek against Bitty’s upper arm.

Bitty’s wearing his red shorts, the one Kent told him to bring. They’re wrapped up in a blanket, because it’s winter in Providence, and they’re both used to Vegas heat, but Bitty tugs the blanket off of them and quickly places a pillow at his feet.

“Now that you mention it, my cock could do with some warming up,” Bitty muses.

Kent shifts as he feels himself slicking up, the plug pressing against him with the most delicious pressure.

“Kneel,” Bitty commands.

Kent does so immediately, knees on the pillow, in between Bitty’s legs. He waits.

“Well?” Bitty asks impatiently. “Get to it.’

Kent nods his head, saliva pooling in his mouth, and quickly takes Bitty’s dick out of his shorts. He gives it one, two pumps, before he can’t wait anymore and sucks down Bitty, who’s growing harder in Kent’s mouth. He hollows his cheeks and swirls his tongue, but Bitty’s grabbing his hair, and Kent looks up, stops moving.

“Keep my cock warm,” Bitty demands. “Tap my leg three times if you need to safeword out.”

Kent nods and sits back on his heels, hands on his knees. His fingers twitch as he fights the urge to lick and suck, and he justs sits there, holding Bitty in his mouth. Kent loses track of the ebb and flow of life around him. The TV becomes a hum in the background, and the pillow beneath his knees might as well not be there, because all he can sense is Bitty, Bitty’s hands in his hair, his dick on Kent’s tongue, his scent in Kent’s nose, his eyes on Kent’s lips.

Kent closes his eyes. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, doesn’t care, when Bitty’s gently urging him up,  and Kent just follows him, floating pleasantly.

And then Kent’s smelling something that isn’t Bitty, but calls to him just as much, and he’s looking for it before he even knows what he’s doing, not realizing he’s no longer following Bitty until Bitty’s gently pulling him away from the laundry hamper Kent’s digging through, but Kent waves him off, grabs a shirt, and turns to the bed, lying down on it.

“Kenny, this isn’t our room, we should go,” Bitty says.

Kent’s still foggy. He holds the shirt up to his nose and breaths it in, then makes grabby hands at Bitty, who hesitates before moving towards him. Kent pushes the shirt at Bitty, who frowns in confusion.

“Wear it,” Kent manages to croak out, throat sore from Bitty’s cock.

Bitty’s brows furrow, but he tugs the flannel on. It’s big on him-- of course it it. It comes down past his red shorts, which Kent’s pulling down unceremoniously before he grabs Bitty and pulls him on top of Kent.

The smell, Kent thinks, is perfect, Jack and Bitty, a sensory symphony, and he moans into the kiss Bitty gives him.

“We should move, sweetpea,” Bitty grunts out, but Kent just already taking off his pants and underwear, and Bitty refocuses when he catches sight of the plug in Kent’s pussy.

“Sweetie, did you get yourself ready for me?” Bitty growls, grabbing the base of the plug and pulling it out a little bit.

Kent can only nod, can only gasp as Bitty pushes the plug back in, and then begins to fuck him with it, thrusting in and out, rubbing against his G-spot with every push in, until Kent’s coming all over himself, and he relaxes even more than before, nearly boneless.

Bitty rearranges them so Kent’s facing the door, head down, ass up, and finally, Bitty’s taking out the plug, and Kent doesn’t even have the energy to groan at the long, perfect slide of it, just feels more slick dripping out of him.

Kent does mewl as Bitty pushes into him, warm and heavy, familiar as Kent’s own heartbeat, thrusting in, steady and unyielding, forcing Kent to make room for Bitty, lips stretching to accommodate Bitty’s girth.

Kent loses time again, as Bitty moves in and out of him. He feels used, just a warm, wet hole for Bitty to fuck into, the thought making arousal pool in his stomach, making his cock twitch, trying to get hard. Kent clenches down reflexively, hips rolling as Bitty thrusts in, and Kent knows what that change in Bitty’s breathing means.

And then Bitty is looking up, at Jack, in the doorway, watching Kent and Bitty fucking in his bed, and Bitty’s coming, knot inflating, locking him and Kent together.

When Bitty recovers, Jack’s kneeling at the foot of the bed, and he’s kissing Kent slow and deep, Kent who barely has enough energy to kiss back but is clearly enjoying Jack’s careful exploration.

“He’s so sweet like this,” Bitty says, startling Jack who pulls away from Kent to blink up at Bitty. “Fucked out and relaxed.”

“Yeah,” Jack murmurs, raising a hand to stroke Kent’s hair. Kent just closes his eyes and surrenders to the touch.

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Jack asks, brow furrowing in concern.

“Green,” Kent says, barely audible.

Jack relaxes and goes back to kissing Kent. Bitty waits for his knot to go down and then crawls down the bed to gently direct Jack’s lips to his own. They kiss languidly, losing track of time, before they’re forced to separate by Kent.

“Want Jack’s cock,” Kent whines, tugging on the flannel Bitty is wearing.

Bitty flushes as Jack finally notices what he is wearing, Jack’s eyes dilating.

“What do you think?” Bitty deflects. “Does Kent deserve your cock?”

“What do you think?” Jack counters.

“I think you’re long overdue for a spoiling, Mr. Zimmerman,” Bitty says, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that a yes?” Jack asks.

“Well, Kenny, you wanna choke on Jack’s dick?” Bitty directs towards Kent.

Kent rolls his eyes at Bitty in lieu of speaking, clearly conveying _obviously, I was the one who said I wanted Jack’s cock_.

“Do you have a condom, Jack?” Bitty asks Jack, who nods his head before disappearing into the bathroom.

“Oh, I forgot about your allergy, it’s been a while,” Bitty tells Kent, before raising his voice. “Jack, are they latex-free? Kent can’t--.”

“He’s allergic, I remember,” Jack interrupts are he comes out of the bathroom with a foil packet.

It’s even the same brand that Kent and Bitty use, or used to, before they started trying. Bitty takes it from Jack, just to be sure, but it’s the same coloring, same letters, everything. Bitty’s heart does something funny as he considers what that means. He shakes his head, and grabs Jack by the waist to pull him closer to Bitty.

“Kent, you’re going to have to be quick about it, don’t want Jack here to be late for his game, huh?” Bitty says as he rips open the packet and slides the condom on Jack in quick, efficient movements.

But it is Bitty, after all, so he takes a moment to fist Jack’s cock once or twice before releasing Jack, who goes to stand in front of Kent. Bitty helps Kent move closer to the foot of the bed, and then Jack’s slowly thrusting into Kent’s mouth. Kent’s so tired he just opens his mouth, relaxes his jaw, and just lets Jack fuck into his mouth.

Jack goes slowly, somehow making a face-fucking loving and gentle, Kent barely moving as Jack rocks his hips. Bitty watches, entranced by how easily Kent takes Jack’s cock, the quiet grunts Jack makes, Jack’s hands in Kent’s hair.

Jack’s face does something when he comes, but Bitty can’t decode what it is before Jack’s closed off again, eyes half-lidded as he looks down as Kent, slowly taking his soft cock out of Kent’s mouth.

Bitty opens his mouth to ask Jack to cuddle, but Jack’s tying off the condom and heading into the bathroom before Bitty can get anything out. He settles for rearranging Kent so they’re cuddling together when Jack gets out of his shower, with only a towel around his waist, water dripping from his hair. He ignores them on the bed as he pulls on his clothes.

“Kiss for good luck?” Bitty offers from the bed, still wearing Jack’s flannel.

“That’s not part of my pre-game routine, Bittle, and you know it,” Jack says shortly.

“Was in the Q,” Kent slurs.

Jack rolls his eyes. Bitty eyes him, before deciding further convincing would be useless, and settles for petting Kent’s hair.

“Good luck, Jack!” He calls after Jack, who waves over his shoulder.

Later, Bitty drags his laptop in, so they can watch the game. Jack scores a hatty. Kent falls asleep, and Bitty doesn’t have to heart to wake him up to move back to their bed, so they’re still there when Jack gets home, hair wet from the rain they can hear rattling against the windows. Bitty can only shrug apologetically, tilting his head towards Kent as if to say _what else could I do?_

Jack smiles, leans down to kiss the top of Bitty’s head, and then shucks his henley and jeans before getting into bed. Bitty shifts to make more room for Jack.

“Guess I gotta suck you off before every game now,” Kent murmurs sleepily.

Bitty feels Jack’s chuckle more than he hears it, before Jack says “Yeah, bud, I guess you do.”

Jack puts his arm over Bitty, hand resting on Kent’s stomach, and Bitty snuggles in. They fall asleep like that.

* * *

They fall into a routine, with Jack going to practices and doing press and his volunteer stuff that Kent occasionally crashes just to be a nuisance. Bitty slowly redecorates, more pillows on the couch, blankets, a soft blue rug for the wooden floor in the living room. He makes different jam for Jack’s pregame sandwiches and then the bread. Sometimes they wait up for Jack in his bedroom after games, but sometimes they’re in their room. He doesn’t sleep with them those nights, even though Kent and Bitty leave the door open.

Kent’s so committed to sucking Jack’s dick before every game that one day when Jack’s at the rink all day before the game, he sneaks into the rink and gives Jack one in the men’s bathroom as they FaceTime Bitty. Jack scores a hatty. Kent can’t be there for the roadies, of course, but Jack manages, and when he gets home, meekly asks Bitty to make his sandwiches with peach marmalade, which makes Bitty beam for the rest of the week.

The point is, it’s good. They’re doing good. Sometimes, it feels weird, the way Jack goes distant, doesn’t cuddle as they watch Netflix, but Kent and Bitty both reason that Jack doesn’t show affection through touch like they do, and it’s fine.

And then Kent’s heat hit on Valentine’s Day at the beginning of Jack’s three day roadie. It’s harder than usual on Kent, who’s craving Jack as well as Bitty, and they end up fucking like bunnies on Jack’s bed, surrounded by the contents of Jack’s laundry basket. Bitty’s been knotted to Kent for a while when Jack walks in, making direct eye contact with Bitty over Kent’s back.

“Thank god you’re here!” Bitty exclaims.

Kent, who was nearly dozing, suddenly sits up from where he was lying on his stomach with Bitty draped on his back, pulling at Bitty’s knot as he does, making them both groan. Jack’s just looking at them, blank-faced, as Kent makes grabby hands at him.

“Come here, let me touch you,” Kent begs, trying to reach Jack. “Fuck, Zimms, let me smell you, please, I’m going out of my mind.”

“Is that-- are those my dirty clothes?” Jack says, moving close enough that Kent can wrap his arms around Jack’s waist and breathe him in.

“Someone missed you,” Bitty teases, shallowing thrusting up into Kent, who whines.

“Oh yeah?” Jack says, lowly.

“Go get a condom, it’s your turn to fuck me,” Kent says impatiently, rolling his hips.

Bitty grabs his hips to still the motion. “Honey, if you want my knot to go down anytime soon, you gotta stop moving.”

Kent makes a face at Bitty, but does as he says. Jack ducks into the bathroom to splash some water on his face and shuck off his clothes. He frowns when he sees the nearly-full box of condoms in the medicine cabinet, wondering if Bitty’s using his own stash.

Bitty’s eating out Kent when Jack gets back to the bedroom, licking up the come leaking out of Kent.

“You didn’t use a condom?” Jack blurts out, before chastising himself. _Idiot, it’s none of your business._

“We’re clean, honey, if you’re worried about that, but I did try to clean him up for you,” Bitty replies.

“That’s, I wasn’t worried about that, you haven’t been using condoms with each other, but he’s in heat?” Jack stammers out.

“Yes?” Kent drawls out. “What’s the point of this, just fuck me already.”

“Kent, we forgot to tell Jack we’re trying,” Bitty explains, before turning back to Jack.

“Trying?” Jack repeats dumbly.

“Trying to get pregnant, you hockey robot, come over here and fuck me already,” Kent says, sitting up and crawling to the foot of the bed so he can pull Jack closer.

“Oh,” Jack replies.

“Give me the condom,” Kent says impatiently, putting it on Jack in quick, efficient movements.

“Wait, honey, Jack,  are you okay?” Bitty frets.

Jack feels a little pang at the nickname, wishing for it to be airmed at him. He manages a smile for Bitty anyway and pounces on Kent, who giggles.

“Yeah, just a bit tired from the roadie,” Jack answers. “Seeing you two raised my spirits.”

“That’s not the only thing we’ll be raising, hopefully,” Kent leers, waggling his eyebrows, before flipping them over and sinking down on Jack’s cock.

If Jack’s laugh at Kent’s terrible pun is a little hollow, no one comments on it. He focuses on thrusting up into Kent, but Kent’s really the star of the show, setting a fast pace that Jack worries is going to strain a muscle. He curls his hands to Kent’s hips and helps Kent move up and down.

Kent gasps and moans above him, but Jack’s focusing on the angle of his thrusts, changing them until the slide-in of his cock is putting more pressure on Kent’s G-spot, making Kent squeeze tighter around him and get louder.

In no time at all, Jack’s coming, knot stretching out Kent, and he fists Kent’s cock until Kent is too, moaning. Kent slumps over him, sticking his nose in Jack’s neck, his breath coming in warm little huffs against Jack’s sweaty skin.

“Wow,” Jack says, stunned. “That was...I’m going to need someone to tap in.”

“Are you’re getting old, Jack?” Kent chirps. “Can’t keep up with us youngins?”

“Stop it, you,” Bitty admonishes. “Cut the man some slack, he just came back from a three day roadie.”

“I’m just saying,” Kent defends.

“Hush,” Bitty repeats, before turning to Jack. “You must be hungry, do you want me to get you something to eat, anything to drink?”

“We, uh,” Jack stammers, trying not to point to where he and Kent are tied together.

“We’re tied together,” Kent says bluntly, having none of the reservations Jack does.

“Yes, I can see that, Mr. Parson, I have eyes,” Bitty sasses. “There’s nothing in your mouth, you can still put things in it right, Jack?”

Jack immediately thinks of all the non-food things Bitty could put in his mouth, and blushes bright red. Kent, who can apparently still read his fucking mind, cackles.

“Oh man, Zimms is definitely not thinking about food after that, Bitty,” Kent says, clearly reveling in Jack’s discomfort.

“Parse, you’re such a jerk,” Jack groans, throwing his arm over his face.

“Would a jerk do this?” Kent says, and moves his hips, milking another spurt of come from Jack.

“Yes,” Jack grouses. “Bitty, I’d love a protein bar and some water, I”m going to need provisions to keep up with this one.”

“He’s a handful, isn’t he?” Bitty says fondly, before leaving the room with one last touch to Jack’s knee.

“I’ll have you know my ass is at least two handfuls!” Kent protests to Bitty’s retreating back.

Jack reaches down and cups the ass in question, pursing his lips consideringly.

“I’d say it’s a good two and a half handfuls, maybe three? Bitty handfuls, at least, you’re two Jack handfuls,” Jack determines.

“Jack handfuls, seriously?” Kent exclaims. “Man, that’s golden.”

“I have bigger hands than Bitty,” Jack defends. “It’s a fact!”

“Two Jack handfuls,” Kent mutters to himself, chortling.

“Two what handfuls?” Bitty asks as he enters the room. “Never mind, I don’t want to know, please don’t tell me, I know what that look on your face means, Kent.”

“Aw, babe, you’re such a party-pooper,” Kent whines.

“Well, considering you’re currently sat on Jack’s dick, I think I’m more of a party-enabler,” Bitty says wryly.

“Okay, but you’re enjoying this too, so this is for you as much as it is for me,” Kent points out.

Jack just flounders, not knowing what to say, but Kent and Bitty don’t notice, _too caught up in each other_ , the cynical part of Jack says. The same part says _I’m not the part, I’m the whole fucking brain_ , but Jack ignores that.

“I would hope you’re both enjoying this, I’m incredible at sex,” Jack chirps.

“Definitely better than my favorite vibrator, hockey robot,” Kent says, voice suddenly sultry.

“How on earth did you make ‘hockey robot’ sexy, honey?” Bitty asks, bewildered.

“I don’t know, I’m in heat, I’m horny, Jack’s knot is going down, someone knot me again already,” Kent pouts.

“Wanna trade?” Bitty says, waving the protein bar and water bottle in front of Jack.

“God yes, I’d like a shower too,” Jack says.

“Why bother, you’re just going to get sweaty again,” Kent pouts. “I could suck your dick while you eat your protein bar.”

“As tempting as that offer sounds,” Jack says dryly. “I would like to wash the airport off of me before fucking you so hard you can’t remember your own name, never mind how to chirp me.”

“Ooooh, Jack did not come to play,” Bitty comments.

“Eat your stupid protein bar,” Kent grumbles.

“I feel so appreciated right now,” Bitty comments to Jack.

“Oh, don’t be like that, bud, you know I love you,” Kent purrs, pulling Bitty onto the bed with him.

And that’s Jack’s cue to leave. He’s happy. He doesn’t need to hear this and remember  everything he desperately wants but can’t have.

* * *

Jack gets back from games late most nights. Usually, Kent and Bitty wait for him in his bed, but sometimes they sleep in the other room. This night is different though: tonight, Jack gets back, and Bitty’s asleep in his bed. Or at least, Jack thinks Bitty is asleep, until Jack gets in, and Bitty shifts closer to breathe him in.

“Where’s Kent?” Jack asks, because he’s great at asking dumb questions.

“In the other room,” Bitty murmurs back.

“Why?” Jack pushes, because he doesn’t know how to quit while he’s ahead.

Bitty sighs and moves onto his back, pulling away from Jack. They lie there, breathing, for so long that Jack startles when Bitty speaks, having thought Bitty fell asleep.

“He’s not pregnant,” Bitty says.  

“Oh,” Jack says. “I’m sorry.”

“He said he wanted to sleep alone tonight,” Bitty continues, bitterness coating his every word.

“That’s bullshit,” Jack says immediately, before flushing. Thankfully, Bitty can’t see him.

“Excuse me?” Bitty says sharply.

“When we were in the Q, whenever Parse would say that, he really wanted me closer, but didn’t want to admit it,” Jack says without thinking.

“You’re not in the Q anymore,” Bitty says softly.

“Then why does Kent still suck my dick like he is?” Jack retorts, before pausing.

“Huh. Guess he had his technique down early,” Bitty muses.

“Sorry, that was crude,” Jack manages. “I just mean-- I’ve known him longer, Bitty.”

“That’s true,” Bitty murmurs. “And you’ve known me longer too, Jack. So what should I do?”

“You should go to him, and hug him, and don’t say you love him,” Jack replies, immediately, because he’s had years to think about what he would do if he could change things.

“Why shouldn’t I tell him I love him?” Bitty wonders.

“Because, it’ll feel like a consolation prize,” Jack tells him, under the same covers, covered by the same darkness. “Because sometimes love can’t erase the feeling that your body’s failing you.”

“What did you do, Jack? Back in the Q?” Bitty asks.

“Does it matter?” Jack answers, swallowing, mouth dry.

Bitty doesn’t say anything back. They lie there for another moment, breathing in unison, before the covers shift as Bitty moves. Then Jack hears the soft pad of Bitty’s footsteps and feels Bitty’s lips on his forehead, before the door opens and closes gently.

Jack turns on his side and tries his best to fall asleep.

* * *

He trudges into the kitchen the next morning, exhausted. Thankfully, morning skate is optional, so he has the privilege of watching Kent and Bitty clinging all over each other in the kitchen, Kent just wearing boxes under an apron Jack got as a housewarming present.

“Morning,” he greets, because Alicia Zimmerman did teach him manners.

“Hi Jack! Oh, you look exhausted, the game must have been terrible,” Bitty frets, immediately moving over to Jack.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Jack says shortly, going to the fridge to pour out some orange juice.

“Would you like a pancake?” Kent asks from where he’s pouring out the batter for what appears to be one of his blueberry pancakes.

Jack opens his mouth to refuse, but his stomach grumbles. Kent’s blueberry pancakes were one of the highlights of the Q: just the smell of them cooking evokes lazy Sunday mornings in bed, sun streaming through, eating breakfast before eating out Kent.

Jack clears his throat before answering with a “Yes, please.”

Kent smiles at him, humming as he flips the pancakes. Bitty pushes Jack down into a seat at the table and then sits in his lap.

“Thanks for last night, Jack,” Bitty murmurs.

“Anytime,” Jack says, not curling his arms around Bitty’s waist.

Kent slides a plate stacked with pancakes over to them, dropping a kiss on Bitty’s forehead before kissing Jack on the lips.

“Missed you last night, Zimms,” Kent says softly when Jack pulls away, before turning back to the stove.

“Thanks for the pancakes,” Jack manages to get out, before Bitty offers him a forkful of pancakes.

“What were you thinking of doing with your day off?” Bitty asks casually.

“Well, I guess my morning run and going to the gym are out of the question,” Jack guesses.

“Kent and I were talking about a new workout you could try out,” Bitty says innocently, but the way he rolls his hips against Jack’s crotch is downright filthy: Jack nearly chokes on his bite of pancake.

“Really?” Jack manages to get out, trying to concentrate on cutting up his next bite.

“Yeah, you know, they’re good for increasing stamina,” Kent chirps as he walks over with another plate of pancakes and sits at the table.

“Oh, so we’re helping you work out,” Jack teases back, taking another bite of his pancakes.

“You both need help, I end up cleaning you up more often than not,” Bitty chimes in, leaning towards Kent to steal a bite off Kent’s fork.

“You knot first, you clean up,” Kent says, shrugging.

“Only because someone gets so impatient, waitin’ for Jack,” Bitty drawls.

“Probably better you stretch him out for me,” Jack chirps. “It would take too long to prepare him otherwise.”

“Jack Zimmerman, are you saying I’m smaller than you?” Bitty gasps, smacking Jack in the chest.

“Boys, boys, you’re both pretty,” Kent intercedes.

Jack and BItty exchange a look. A tilt of an eyebrow from Jack, a quirk of the lip to the left from Bitty, before they turn to Kent and smile predatorily.

“Kent, honey, mind putting the plates away?” Bitty says. It’s not a request.

“Um,” Kent replies.

“Now, sweetie?” Bitty asks, more firmly.

Kent puts the plates away. Then he goes back to the table, where Jack and Bitty stop whispering as he draws closer.

“What’s up?” Kent says, trying to be casual.

“We were just discussing our plans for today,” Bitty replies, leaning back into Jack’s chest.

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” Kent jokes.

“What’re your safewords, Kent?” Jack asks, leaning his chin on the top of Bitty’s head.

“Oh, is it one of those days?” Kent snarks.

In one fluid movement, Bitty’s standing over Kent, tugging his hair sharply. Kent groans, feeling himself chubbing up almost immediately.

“Answer the question, sweetie,” Bitty orders.

“Green for go, red to stop, yellow to slow down,” Kent gasps out. “Please, Bitty, Jack, please.”

“What’s your color?” Jack growls from behind Kent, who hadn’t notice him moving.

“Green, please, so green,” Kent pleads.

Jack caresses Kent’s wrists, before sliding up his arms, up his neck, and then there’s a blindfold slipping over Kent’s eyes, and a hand on the small of his back, guiding him. Kent figures, from the turns they take, that they’re headed to Jack’s bed, and his suspicion is confirmed by the scents on the bed he’s guided to. Someone takes his boxers off, but not the apron. He’s carefully arranged so his ass is sitting on his heels, chest flush with the sheets.

“Kent, honey, be a good toy and not talk unless we’re checking in or if you need to safeword, okay?” Bitty commands.

A hand caresses Kent’s ass cheek, Jack’s by the calluses, before lightly swatting it. Kent pushes his ass up into the touch, but Jack tsks.

“Toys don’t move,” Jack chides, before spanking Kent.

It’s a supreme act of will for Kent to stay still but he manages.

“Good boy,” Bitty croons as a slicked up finger circles Kent’s rim.

Jack and Bitty are silent as they systematically reduce him to a wreck.  Before long, Kent’s moaning as three of Jack’s fingers mercilessly stretch him out. 

“Looks like our little toy might come,” Bitty notes idly, rubbing a hand down Kent’s back. “Do you think he should?”

In the pause before Jack answers, Kent can hear them kissing and wishes that he could see them.

“It always relaxes so prettily for my cock when you let him come first,” Jack comments.

Jack’s slowly teasing in his pinky before Kent registers that, and then Kent’s coming, clenching down on Jack’s fingers, moaning. Jack keeps finger-fucking him through it, and Kent groans, oversensitive.

“Oh, you’re right,” Bitty says delightedly, as hands gently lift Kent’s hips, presumably to look at the stretch of his hole around Jack’s fingers. “I bet he could even take your fist, Jack.”

“Do you think? We haven’t done that before,” Jack replies.

“I’ve fit my fist before, but my hands are smaller,” Bitty says.

Kent moans, dick fattening up already, the friction from being caught between his belly and thighs too much for his oversensitized skin. The way they’re talking about him, like he’s just theirs to use, to fuck, is hotter than it has any right to be.

“I think he likes that, huh?” Bitty notes. “Color, toy?”

Kent doesn’t want to talk, can’t talk, all the air in his body rapidly exiting as Jack teases his thumb at Kent’s opening. He settles for flashing the “OK” sign at Bitty, who laughs.

“Such a clever toy,” Bitty says fondly. “That sort of thinking deserves a reward, don’t you think Jack?”

Jack, instead of answering, starts pushing in his thumb. Kent gasps, lips stretching to the limit, and for a moment Kent doubts, before the digit slips in. Kent sighs, but Jack keeps going, until Kent’s stretched around Jack’s wrist, each inhale and exhale Kent takes making him intimately aware of how full he is.

“Look at how well he takes you, so well trained,” Bitty notes, almost clinically. “Start fisting him, Jack.”

Jack’s hand is curling into a fist inside him and thrusting in and out, hitting his G-spot with every stroke. Kent zones out, the sensation sending electricity crackling through him, focuses on not moving. He comes back to himself when he comes, whining as Jack slips his fist out, feeling so empty.

“Look at that gape,” Jack growls. “He’s going to be so loose, so sloppy around my dick.”

“Do you think he’ll even be able to clench down on you?” Bitty wonders, before a tongue licks around Kent’s labia.

“We could tighten him back up,” Jack offers, lighting tapping Kent’s ass.

The tongue pulls away from Kent’s cunt, and Kent whines.

“I have a better idea,” Bitty muses. “I bet he can fit both of us, stretched out as he is.”

“Are you sure?” Jack cuts in, voice worried, scene breaking. “I mean, even like this, that’s a lot, Bittle.”

“Oh, he wants it, right Kent?” Bitty says.

“Please, yes, been dreaming of it for so long, Jack, Bitty, need you both,” Kent babbles out immediately.

“That’s enough,” Bitty says sharply, and Kent shuts up.

“I don’t,” Jack says. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“We’ll use plenty of lube and go slow,” Bitty cajoles. “Besides, his little hole was made for this, wasn’t it?”

“Please, Alpha, please, need you both,” Kent begs.

“I didn’t give you permission to speak, toy,” Bitty chides. “I’ll punish you later.”

Kent opens his mouth to protest, but closes it abruptly as he realizes the futility of it.

“Good toy,” Bitty praises, who noticed. Of course he noticed.

Kent’s silent as they figure out how to arrange themselves, until he’s lying chest to chest with Jack, Bitty behind him. There’s the crinkle of the condom packet as Jack puts it on. Then they take off his blindfold, and he blinks as his eyes adjust, surprised to find his lashes wet. Jack slowly pushes into Kent, guided by Bitty, who slips in two fingers alongside Jack’s dick.

“Oh, were you crying?” Jack says, gently taking Kent’s face in his hands and wiping away the tear residue with his thumbs. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’re sobbing at the end of this.”

Kent just takes Jack’s thumb into his mouth when it comes near, sucking on the digit, licking it. But then Bitty takes his finger out, and Kent’s mouth falls open, and he forgets about sucking on anything and just focuses on relaxing as Bitty steadily pushes in, only stopping to let Kent adjust.

And then Bitty’s all the way in, and so is Jack, and Kent is barely able to process how full he feels, how stretched, before Bitty’s moving again, and Kent sees stars, crying again at the perfect pressure.

“Tabernak, he’s so tight,” Jack groans, throwing his head back into a pillow.

“Feels...so...good,” Bitty grunts out as he thrusts faster.

“He was made for this, huh, fucked by us, stretched out on our cocks,” Jack murmurs. “You’re so fucking easy for it, Kenny.”

“So easy for it, but only for us, right?” Bitty growls, grabbing Kent’s hair and pulling him into a rough kiss.

“So perfect like this, Kent, just ours for the taking,” Jack continues.

“You fucking love it,” Bitty tells Kent, thrusting impossibly faster. “We should keep you plugged up all the time, ready for us whenever we want.”

Kent can only moan as Jack starts thrusting up shallowly, pinned in place between them, not moving, not talking.

“God, Kenny, you’re so pretty,” Bitty gasps, reaching a hand up to play with Kent’s nipples.

That’s what tips Kents over into his third orgasm, and he sobs as he comes, clenching down on both of their cocks inside of him. Bitty grunts, before he’s coming into Kent too, knot catching on Kent’s entrance before pushing in and inflating, collapsing on top of Kent. And then Jack’s coming and Kent nearly goes cross-eyed at the feeling of two knots in him.

“Breathe, honey,” Bitty tells him, and Kent does, not realizing he’d been holding it.

He realizes he’s crying. Jack doesn’t say anything, just rubs his hands down Kent’s arms.

“You’re doing so good, sweetpea,” Bitty praises. “You took us so well, so perfect for us.”

Kent lets out a loud hiccuping sob in response, too drained to even open his eyes.

“What’s your color?” Jack asks, worried, and Kent would laugh if he could: it’s not like they could take their knots out as this point in the process even if he safeworded out.

But he doesn’t want to. It feels amazing, and he doesn’t want it to end. He offers them another “OK” sign with his fingers, before relaxing his hand.

Eventually, their knots soften, and they slip out of him and clean up. Jack carries him to the bathroom so he can pee, but then he’s back in bed, propped against Jack’s chest in between Jack’s legs, as Bitty has him taking small sips of apple juice and eating small bites of a protein bar.

“We’re definitely doing that again,” he manages to say when he can talk again.

“Oh, calice, yes,” Jack swears fervently as Bitty answers “God, yes.”

They relax like that, and Bitty puts away the food and juice before crawling into bed, and they rearrange so Kent’s in the middle with Bitty and Jack draped over each side of him. Then Bitty laughs after checking his phone.  

“Christ, it’s only noon!”

* * *

“Hey, honey, the renovations will be done next week,” Bitty says as he comes into the living room where Jack and Kent are cuddling on the couch.

Jack immediately stiffens, and Kent furrows his brows, rubbing a soothing hand down Jack’s arm.

“That’s right on schedule,” Kent opts to say in lieu of anything more positive.

“So you’ll be going back soon, then,” Jack comments casually, voice betraying none of the tension Kent can feel Jack’s holding in his body.

“Are you kicking us out?” Kent asks, clearly trying for joking but Jack’s sitting close enough to feel how Kent’s shoulders stiffen.

“Well, I just thought you’d like to get back, set everything up,” Jack points out.

“Oh god, we have to get furniture,” Bitty groans, plopping across their laps.

“You love interior decorating,” Kent cajoles.

“I like pinning cute room designs on Pinterest, Kent, I don’t like putting together beds,” Bitty grumbles.

“Do you think one of those home makeover shows would help us out?” Kent muses.

“Omg, we could see if Mr. Kate wanted to collab with my channel!” Bitty says excitedly.

“Sure,” Kent agrees.

“Mr. Kate?” Jack interjects.

“They’re this Youtube channel, they help design people’s rooms and or houses,” Bitty explains absently as he starts furiously texting.

“I guess if you’re tired of us, we could go back, sleep on an air mattress,” Kent directs towards Jack, eyes sparkling.

“We can shell out for a mattress and a bed frame, honey,” Bitty chirps.

“Yeah, memory foam,” Kent moans.

“Oh, surely we can go to something better, maybe something that vibrates?” Bitty wonders.

“If you want something that vibrates, we don’t have to get a whole bed for it,” Kent says, leering at Bitty.

“Maybe, you can stay here. While your house gets decorated,” Jack offers.

“Yeah?” Kent murmurs, curling closer to Jack.

“Yeah, I mean, you suck dick so good it makes me better at hockey,” Jack admits, quirking his lips to a side.

“Jack Zimmerman, sharing credit? Alert the presses!” Kent exclaims.

“Sweetie, stop teasing him,” Bitty scolds. “Jack, that’s so sweet of you, we’d love to stay with you.”

“Yeah, you’ll need help keeping this one in line,” Jack deflects, rearranging them on the couch so Kent’s on their laps instead of Bitty, ass up.

Bitty looks at Kent, pursing his lips. Then he looks up at Jack.

“Actually, Jack, I think I’d rather see you on your knees,” Bitty says, smiling at Jack.

Jack blinks as he processes that, arousal a low level thrum, his dick hardening. He moves his hand to push down on his dick, but Bitty grabs his hands and pins them to the back of the couch, Kent quickly moving out the way, so Bitty can straddle Jack’s lap.

“What are your safewords?” Bitty purrs.

* * *

Jack makes playoffs. Then the Eastern Conference finals. And then, it’s game seven of the Stanley Cup finals, and he’s scoring the game-winning goal, and his teammates are rushing him.

When he has a moment to come up for air, he looks for Bitty and Kent. They’re still in the stands, making their way down, and then Kent leans down, and Jack watches them kiss.

He turns back to the celly, to the ice.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you enjoyed (or didn't enjoy) let me know! also, if there are any tags that i haven't included and you think i should include (which.....super possible), also let me know! 
> 
> i should have posted this on hump day (Wednesday) tbh.


	3. between a cock and a hard place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent goes into heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all if you thought there was a lot of sex in the last chapter.....

“I was supposed to go into heat over a month ago,” Kent tells Bitty when he wakes up. 

“Wha?” Bitty slurs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“My cycle, it’s --it’s weird,” Kent says. 

Bitty blinks, before turning onto his side to face Kent, who’s looking up at the ceiling. 

“Where’s Jack?” Bitty asks. 

“I don’t know! He was gone when I woke up. My cycle, Eric,” Kent says urgently, turning to look at Kent. 

“I know, I know, I’m trying to figure out-- you’re not pregnant?” Bitty asks, stupidly. 

“I’m not-- no, I’m not fucking pregnant, it’s been a year, and I’m not, and my heat’s late, and I’m worried, I can’t be menopausal, and I’m freaking the fuck out, Bitty,” Kent rants, hysteria creeping into his voice.  

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, hon, do you want to go see your doctor?” Bitty says, trying for soothing. 

“No, I don’t fucking want to go to the doctor!” Kent exclaims. 

“How long have you been awake, Kent?” Bitty asks patiently. 

“An hour?” Kent says uncertainly. 

“You googled it,” Bitty surmises. 

“I googled it,” Kent admits. 

“I think you should see the doctor,” Bitty says gently. 

“I’m-- I don’t want to,” Kent admits. 

“But you’re worried,” Bitty prods gently. 

“I can’t ignore it, as much as I want to,” Kent says. 

“Talking to a doctor will make you feel better,” Bitty points out. 

“Can-- I don’t want to know if it’s something bad, yet. I want to celebrate with Jack on his Cup day, and be able to convince myself that everything’s okay,” Kent explains. 

“Can I touch you?” Bitty asks, heart aching for Kent. 

“Please,” Kent pleads, nearly sobbing. 

Bitty rolls towards him and rests his head on Kent’s chest. Kent curls an arm around him. 

“I’m going to schedule you an appointment for after Jack’s Cup day. And honey, I’m sure it’s nothing. You were on suppressants for so long, this is probably just because of that,” Bitty soothes. 

“Thank you,” Kent says quietly. 

“We should find Jack,” Bitty muses. 

“He went on his morning run,” Kent supplies. 

“You said earlier you didn’t know where he was!” Bitty exclaims. 

“Well, I don’t know exactly where he is, just that he went on a run,” Kent defends. 

“Ugh, I can’t believe that boy went running today,” Bitty complains. 

“He better sleep in tomorrow,” Kent grouses. 

“On his Cup day and your birthday? Baby, I’ll tie him to the bed if I have to,” Bitty growls, heaving himself up and over to straddle Kent, grabbing his wrists and pinning them down.

“Might be more tempting if you tie me to the bed,” Kent says, arching his back, against Bitty, who presses his lips against Kent’s for a brief moment before pulling back, ignoring Kent’s attempts to prolong the kiss. 

“Oh, you’d enjoy that wouldn’t you,” Bitty murmurs lowly, rubbing his nose against Kent’s. 

“Daddy, please,” Kent begs. 

Kent shivers as Bitty abruptly stops touching him entirely, climbing off of the bed in one smooth movement to root around in the bedside drawer. 

“What is happening?” Kent groans, throwing his head back onto the pillow. 

“I was thinking it would be such a nice present for our Alpha, you desperate and hard for him, all day long,” Bitty says innocently, finally bringing out their biggest plug along with a cock ring. 

“Hnnnghh,” Kent manages. 

“Tomorrow morning, he can just slip into your loose and sloppy hole, gaping just for his knot,” Bitty continues, setting down the toys on the bed and looking for something else in the drawer. 

“Green,” Kent preempts Bitty, who closes his mouth around the question he was going to ask. “So green, Alpha, please.” 

“Oh, lovely, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” Bitty purrs, before leaning down to kiss Kent. 

“I wish Jack were here so I could suck him off,” Kent whines. 

“Someone say my name?” Jack calls from the doorway, patting at the sweat on his face with the bottom of his shirt.

“Perfect timing,” Bitty praises, going into the bathroom with the toys. 

“Come here, let me suck your dick,” Kent demands, lying on the bed so he was on his belly, his feet hanging off one end, head at the other. 

“I’m all sweaty, bud, let me shower first,” Jack protests, dropping his shirt. 

“God, you smell so good,” Kent moans. “Let me lick the sweat off your dick, please, Zimms.” 

“Well, with an offer like that, how could I refuse,” Jack grins, tugging his shirt off as he walks over to Kent. 

“Wait, don’t throw that in the hamper, give it here,” Kent orders, holding a hand out for the shirt. 

“Really, Kent?” Jack wonders, scrunching his nose.

“I need it,” Kent pouts, then smiles as Jack concedes and drops the shirt in Kent’s hand, which makes its way back to the bed. 

“I thought your knot would be halfway down his throat already,” Bitty comments as he comes back from the bathroom with the toys. 

“Didn’t want to start without you, babe,” Kent chirps, wiggling his ass. “Come on, plug me up.” 

“You’re not going to fuck him?” Jack wonders, surprised. 

“We’re not going to fuck him until tomorrow,” Bitty corrects, waving the plug disapprovingly. 

“Are you punishing him? Can’t you find a way to do that without punishing me?” Jack complains. 

“Delayed gratification, Oh-Captain-My-Captain,” Bitty admonishes as he sticks a finger into Kent. “Imagine how much sweeter it’ll be to fuck him tomorrow, when the Cup’s here.” 

“It would be pretty sweet to fuck him today,” Jack points out, taking off his pants.

“Well, just because we can’t fuck him today doesn’t mean we can’t do other things with him,” Bitty smirks. 

“Mind sharing with the rest of the class?” Kent finally blurts out, tired of being excluded from the conversation. 

Jack makes eye contact with Bitty, who just smiles at him, before putting another finger into Kent. At the same time, Jack starts feeding Kent his cock. 

“What’s your safeword, Kent?” Bitty instructs. 

Kent dutifully taps three times on Jack’s thigh, who eases out of Kent’s mouth. 

“Okay, bud?” Jack checks in. 

Kent just rolls his eyes, grabbing Jack’s hips and swallowing his cock again. 

“Well, okay then,” Jack gets out, bemused, before he groans as Kent swirls his tongue around Jack’s cock. 

“He’s very good at that,” Bitty says smugly, inserting a third finger into Kent, lube squelching as Bitty starts fingerfucking Kent in earnest. 

“Practice makes perfect,” Jack grunts as he grabs Kent’s hair to control the steady slide in of his cock into Kent’s mouth until it hits the back of Kent’s throat. 

“And he’s just about perfect, isn’t he,” Bitty says, sliding his fingers out of Kent, who whines around Jack’s cock in protest. 

Bitty just pats Kent’s ass fondly, before picking up the plug and lubing it up. Kent goes very still as the tip of the plug breaches him, and barely even breathes as Bitty slowly pushes it in, Jack taking the moment to shove his cock as far into Kent’s mouth as it will go. 

Kent takes it all, of course. He’s good at cocksucking, loves the heaviness of a dick on his tongue, the taste, the musk. Loves the rasp in his throat after a particularly hard dicking. 

“Do you want Jack’s knot, sweetie?” Bitty is asking, having moved to sit on the bed closer to Kent’s head. 

Kent tries to nod, but Jack’s hands in his hair keep Kent’s head in place. 

“Are you close?” Bitty asks, sliding a hand up Jack’s stomach to his chest. 

“Tabernak,” Jack groans, moving his hips faster. “So close.” 

Bitty sits up, grabs Jack’s hair so they can kiss, rough and dirty, teeth and tongues clashing, and then Bitty harshly pinches Jack’s nipple, and Jack stops moving as he’s coming into Kent’s mouth, moaning into Bitty’s, his knot inflating against the soft palate of Kent’s mouth, back arching into Bitty’s hands as they tease Jack’s nipples, lost in all of the simultaneous sensations. 

When Jack recovers, Bitty is sitting back on his heels, looking very smug as he caresses Kent’s ass. Jack looks down as where his cock disappears into Kent’s mouth, sees his knot pushing against Kent’s cheeks, and nearly comes again, but holds off. Instead, Jack pets Kent’s hair. 

“Guess I’m stuck standing here until my knot deflates,” Jack reflects. 

“Yeah, I guess you are,” Bitty muses, a smile dawning on his face. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jack asks warily, recognizing the look as the one Bitty would have in his eyes during three am bake fests in the Haus kitchen when Bitty would find an extremely experimental recipe and decide to substitute nearly, if not, all the ingredients and somehow make the recipe perfectly. 

“I was thinking that we could take this opportunity and let me give you a prostate massage,” Bitty shares innocently, reaching behind him to grab the lube. 

“And then fuck me?” Jack predicts, raising an eyebrow at Bitty. 

“Well, if you’re up for it,” Bitty demurs, looking up at Jack through his eyelashes. 

“Think you have to be up for it, bud,” Jack chirps. 

“Jack Zimmerman, you know I am always up for it,” Bitty protests. 

“Hmm, I’ll believe it when I feel it,” Jack dismisses. 

“Oh, you have no idea what you’re asking for,” Bitty warns. 

“You talk really nice, eh, but do you think you can make me come?” Jack challenges. 

Bitty moves into a kneeling position and rubs noses with Jack, eyes closed, before looking directly into Jack’s eyes. 

“Mr. Zimmerman, I’ll have you seeing fucking stars,” Bitty murmurs, before pressing his lips to Jack’s. 

* * *

Kent wakes up the next morning sore and achy and just generally miserable and groans. 

“It’s my birthday,” he moans. “Why do I feel so sick?” 

Jack, who abruptly looked away from Kent’s face when Kent had woken up, turns to Kent. 

“You doing okay, bud?” Jack asks. 

Kent curls into a fetal position against Jack’s side, groaning. “Just feel like I got run over by an eighteen-wheeler, is all.” 

“Oh, do you want me to get you someth--,” Jack starts, before leaning in to scent Kent’s neck. “You’re not sick.” 

“Stop Alphasplaining me to me!” Kent snaps. “Of course I’m sick, you don’t feel this sick without something being wron--. Oh.” 

“You’re going into heat,” Jack states dumbly. 

“Oh,” Kent repeats. Then, “ _ Oh _ ,” in a different tone of voice. 

Kent makes an attempt to sit up, but then falls back into the bed, wincing. 

“You okay there bud?” Jack asks, placing a warm hand on Kent’s elbow. 

“Oh that feels nice,” Kent says, curling closer to Jack. “Yeah, I just hate pre-heat symptoms, and they’re extra bitchy this time around.” 

“Ah. Do you want some painkillers?” Jack offers. 

“No, they make me sleepy, this part shouldn’t last too long anyway, hopefully,” Kent replies, before groaning and curling closer to Jack. 

“What can I do?” Jack asks, helplessly. 

“Touch me, it feels so good,” Kent says pleadingly. 

“I can do that,” Jack says confidently. 

“I sure hope you can,” Kent chirps. 

“Or I could go for my morning run,” Jack says, pulling away from Kent. 

“No, no, wait, come back,” Kent begs, making grabby hands at Jack who’s sitting up on the edge of the bed. “It’s your Cup day, take a break, Zimms.” 

“Hmm,” Jack contemplates. “I guess I could take a break today, cook a big breakfast. You know, save Bitty some work.” 

“I know for a fact that Bitty will murder you dead if you ruin the any of the meals he’s making  today,” Kent warns. 

“I guess I could cuddle with you,” Jack teases. “If that’s what you want.” 

“God you’re so fucking smug, you jerk,” Kent grumbles, pulling at Jack’s arm until Jack’s lying down again, gathering Kent in his arms. 

“You sure know how to convince me,” Jack chirps. 

“Hush,” Kent murmurs, closing his eyes. 

Jack closes his eyes, not intending to sleep, but he’s pleasantly surprised to find he does. Kent’s kissing him awake an indeterminate amount of time later. 

“I know you’re awake,” Kent purrs against Jack’s mouth. 

“Where’s Bitty?” Jack says, dumbly. 

“Cooking, don’t worry about him,” Kent dismisses. 

Jack barely has time to process that until Kent’s straddling him, ass bare against Jack’s boxer-covered dick, Kent having slept in the buff the night before. 

“Birthday boy gets a ride in before Cup boy gets to have his wicked way with me,” Kent states, tone leaving no room for negotiation. 

“Should I tell you my safewords?” Jack jokes. 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Kent says immediately, more serious than Jack was. 

“Oh, I was just-- joking,” Jack stammers. 

Kent clambers off of Jack, sitting on the bed. 

“I only have people with people who consent, dude, if you don’t want to, you don’t want to, no big,” Kent reassures. 

“No, calice, Parse, I was just kidding,” Jack protests, grabbing Kent by the waist and moving him onto Jack’s crotch.

“You tell me the moment you feel iffy,” Kent orders, wagging a finger in front of Jack’s face. 

“Yes, yes, I promise,” Jack says. “Now what are your safewords?” 

“Red to stop, yellow to slow down, green to keep going,” Kent recites dutifully, staring at the wall above the bed before shaking his head to snap out of it and smiling down at Jack. “Yours?” 

“The same,” Jack says, lips curling into a smile. 

“Excellent, let’s get down to business,” Kent grins, purposefully rubbing his ass against Jack’s crotch. 

“To defeat the Huns?” Jack chirps. 

Kent swats at him. “I’m trying to be sultry,” he pouts, crossing his arms. 

“Oh, Parse, you don’t have to try,” Jack reassures. “You just sound silly when you try.” 

“When I don’t try, I make, like, stupid jokes,” Kent points out. 

“You make even stupider jokes when you try,” Jack says solemnly, squeezing Kent’s hips. 

“You’re supposed to me nice to me, it’s my birthday,” Kent complains. 

Jack sits up and leans in like he’s about to kiss Kent but at the last moment moves his head so his lips are just barely not touching Kent’s ear. 

“You’re older than me,” Jack whispers into Kent’s ear. 

“Asshole!” Kent huffs, trying to get out of Jack’s lap. 

“No, no, calice, I’m sorry I was joking,” Jack says between laughter. 

“I’m going to go get Bitty to fuck me if you keep teasing,” Kent threatens. 

“Okay, okay, I promise I’ll be good,” Jack promises, raising his hands. 

“I will withdraw sex if it comes to that,” Kent warns. 

“Oh, like you would actually follow through,” Jack teases, ignoring the lump in his throat at the thought of this thing with Kent and Bitty ending. 

“Don’t test me, Zimms,” Kent says, pointing a finger in Jack’s face. Then he’s climbing off of Jack, too late for Jack to stop him. 

“Where are you going?” Jack asks. Kent pauses at the threshold to the bathroom and looks at Jack over his shoulder. 

“Changed my mind,” Kent answers simply. “I want you to fuck me in the shower.” 

“Can’t knot you in the shower,” Jack points out. “Also, if we’re fucking, I need to go make an emergency run for condoms.” 

“We haven’t been using condoms since hockey season ended and you stopped being exposed to other people’s blood on a regular basis,” Kent points out, tilting his head in confusion. 

“Well, are you using birth control then?” Jack asks bluntly. 

Kent’s hand touches his stomach for a moment before it’s dropping back to his side. 

“No, of course not,” Kent scoffs. “Why would I? I told you--.” 

“If I fuck you without a condom, I could get you pregnant,” Jack says patiently. 

Kent stares at him like Jack’s head has suddenly caught fire. Jack has the irrational urge to check in a mirror if it has, just in case. 

“Yeah, I mean that’s what heats are for,” Kent says finally, shrugging. “Well, that, and lots of hot, kinky sex.” 

Something inside Jack roars with approval of the idea of impregnating Kent, and he’s off the bed, next to Kent without a thought, just hugging Kent. Jack noses behind Kent’s ear, breathing in Kent’s heat. 

“Jack, when did you go off your rut suppressants?” Kent asks, brows furrowed in thought. 

“Uh, three weeks ago?” Jack guesses. 

“Riiiight,” Kent drawls. 

“I’m going into rut,” Jack realizes. 

“Yep. Must have been why my heat was late, trying to sync up--,” Kent starts, before whipping his head to look at the bedroom door. 

“What is it?” Jack asks, understanding suddenly why he’d been feeling so weird for the past couple of days. 

“Bitty’s rut is due this week,” Kent says slowly. “We joked about, like, fucking like bunnies on my birthday.” 

“Oh tabernak.” 

“Jack, when’s the Cup getting here?”

“Fuck, in an hour,” Jack swears. 

“And so will the Hall of Fame representative,” Kent groans. 

“Well, this is a clusterfuck,” Jack grouses. 

“Well, uh, we could abstain from sex, put on some scent-block patches, take pictures and all that,” Kent offers. 

“Kent, I doubt Bitty and I will be able to function if we’re both in rut and you don’t smell like either of us,” Jack points out. 

“Fuck,” Kent says. 

“No, we’re trying not to do that,” Jack jokes half-heartedly. 

“You know, maybe we could switch Cup days, Tater hasn’t had his yet, right?” Kent suggests. 

“Yeah, that could work,” Jack says slowly. 

“Bitty will be disappointed though, he was going to put a pie in it,” Kent muses. 

“Hasn’t he done that already? Like three times?” Jack points out. 

“Yeah, but he hasn’t done it for you before,” Kent answers absently, moving out of the bedroom and walking towards the kitchen. Jack follows behind. 

“Well, he can do it for the actual Cup day,” Jack says, before stopping short at the threshold, looking over all the food spread out on the kitchen island. 

“Sweetpea, good morning!” Bitty greets, blowing kisses to Kent before turning back to something bubbling on the stove. 

“What’s all this?” Jack manages. 

“It’s your Cup day, silly, I made all your favorites,” Bitty says, eyes sparkling. 

“Wow,” Jack says, looking at the spread. 

Kent sidles up to Bitty and drapes himself on Bitty’s back, tucking his nose into the crook of Bitty’s neck. 

“What are you doing, Kenny, I have to finish making this,” Bitty complains, swatting playfully at Kent’s head with a kitchen towel. 

“You’re going into rut,” Kent announces, stepping away from Bitty. 

“What, no, I’m not,” Bitty denies automatically, before his jaw drops. He leans grabs Kent’s wrist and holds it to his nose before dropping it. “You’re in heat. 

“Yep, and Jack’s in rut,” Kent says, hooking a thumb towards where Jack is standing, still trying to process all the food. 

“What are we going to do about--?” Bitty starts. 

“We’re going to switch Cup days with Tater,” Kent explains. “Jack, did you text Tater?” 

“Uh, no,” Jack stammers, going back to the bedroom to grab his phone and do so. He doesn’t run back to the kitchen, but it’s a close thing; when he gets back, Kent and Bitty are touching foreheads, talking softly to each other. Jack’s heart gives a pang, but he ignores that, in favor of more pressing concerns, namely the knock at his door. 

“Did you, by chance, forget to call the rep?” Kent asks without looking away from Bitty. 

“Uh. Maybe?” Jack says sheepishly. 

Kent and Bitty break apart. They all go to answer the door, where a woman in a suit greets them, holding the Stanley Cup. 

“Hello,” she says flatly. 

“Uh, so, actually, we had to switch Cup days with Alexei Mashkov at the last moment,” Jack says. 

She looks at them blankly, before walking in and setting the Cup down by the door. 

“Can I use your bathroom before I head out?” she asks. 

“Uh, yep, I’ll just show you where it is,” Bitty answers. 

“Please don’t follow me to the bathroom, you reek. I’m perfectly capable of finding the bathroom myself,” the woman insists, holding up a hand before walking deeper into the apartment. 

Bitty exchanges looks with Kent and Jack, who both just shrug at him. Then Kent turns back to the Cup. 

“Oh god, it’s just as beautiful as I remember,” Kent says reverently. 

“I guess you can touch it, it’s not bad luck for you,” Jack says grudgingly. 

“Well, I can’t touch it before the reigning Stanley Cup champion does,” Kent points out. 

“That’s certainly true,” Bitty supports. 

“I don’t know,” Jack hedges, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

“Touch the goddamn cup,” Kent says impatiently. “I wanna touch it before the rep gets back.” 

“Okay, fine,” Jack capitulates, leaning down to place his entire hand flush against the Cup. 

Kent and Bitty smile at the exact same moment and then look at each other, and Jack watches them be so perfectly in sync and feels wistful, even when touching the Stanley Cup. A Stanley Cup Jack won. 

“Okay, my turn,” Kent insists, putting his hand down on the Cup, smiling. Jack watches as the smile fades, and Kent swallows roughly, his free hand jerking up, before falling back to his side. Jack looks away, to Bitty, who doesn’t look at either him or Kent, just briefly touches the Cup before turning away and walking away. 

“All right, I’ll be heading out now,” the rep says from behind Jack and Kent, startling them. They move back from the Cup and watch in silence as she leaves. The click of the door closing behind her shakes them out of their reverie, and Jack locks the door. Then they walk back to the kitchen. 

“Help me put all this food away before it spoils, boys,” Bitty orders as soon as he sees them, bustling around and packing dishes up. 

Jack and Kent get to work. Between the three of them, they have most of the feast packed away in the freezer, Bitty sectioning off some of it for meal-planning during the week. Kent pauses when he sees the cake in the fridge, and he makes a wordless plea to Bitty. 

“Okay, bring out the cake,” Bitty concedes when they’ve finished putting away the food. 

Kent sits down at the table and raises an eyebrow at Jack as if to say  _ Well? _ Jack just grins and sits down next to Kent. 

“Really? You’re making me do this?” Bitty drawls, unamused. 

“It’s my birthday,” Kent defends, while Jack says, “It’s my Cup day.” 

“I’ll give you your birthday, sweetie, but Jack, it’s not your Cup day anymore!” Bitty exclaims. 

“Oh, he must be so sad about it,” Kent interjects, wrapping a comforting arm around Jack’s shoulders and giving Bitty an exaggerated pout. Jack looks at Kent like he’s sprouted an extra limb. 

“You’re very sad about it, right Jack?” Kent cues Jack through gritted teeth. 

“Oh! Yes, I’m, uh, very sad about it,” Jack says, trying to look sad. 

“I can see through you like crystal,” Bitty huffs, wagging a disapproving finger, but he turns on his heel and gets the cake from the fridge, setting it on the counter as he rummages around the kitchen for candles. Finding them, he walks to the table and sets down the cake and candles carefully. 

“Thanks babe,” Kent says, taking his arm off of Jack and pulling Bitty into his lap. Or at least tries to. Bitty pushes him away, smiling.

“Kent Parson, if I sit on your lap, we are going to fuck in 30 seconds or less. Let’s cut this cake first,” Bitty admonishes as he carefully places the candles on the cake. 

“Hurry up,” Kent urges. 

“Well, if someone would help me light thirty-five candles on the cake,” Bitty says archly as he puts the last candle down. 

“I’ll grab a lighter,” Jack volunteers, standing up and grabbing it from one of the kitchen drawers. 

“Thanks!” Bitty calls after him. 

When Jack gets back, Kent’s trying to sneak a bit of icing with his finger, but Bitty stops that plan in its tracks. Jack moves his chair, the legs purposefully screeching against the floor, to grab their attention before they start doing the googly-eyes thing again. Jack sits and starts lighting. His fingers are aching by the time he’s done, but it’s worth it, for Jack, to see Kent’s face glowing from the light of the candles, grinning broadly. 

Then they’re singing happy birthday, and Kent’s cutting into the cake and holds the first piece out for Jack. Jack leans in, but instead of feeding it to him, Kent smears it all over Jack’s face. 

“Oops,” Kent says simply, smirking. 

Bitty smiles at Kent fondly, grabbing a piece of the cake and offering it to Kent, who leans forward guilelessly only for Bitty to smash the cake into Kent’s face. Jack uses his phone to take a picture of Kent’s face, blinking at Bitty, a look of utter affront on Kent’s face. 

“Why?” Kent whines piteously, not even trying to get the mess of his face. 

“Oops,” Bitty replies. “Guess we better go clean up.” 

And just like that Kent’s happy or more accurately, judging by how his eyes dilate, horny, Jack notes. 

“Shower sex?” Kent says dreamily. 

“We’re not knotting in the shower!” Bitty insists. 

“Right?” Jack agrees. “I told him this earlier.” 

“You two are so uninventive,” Kent scoffs. “There is so much more you can do in a shower.” 

“Like what?” Bitty asks, eyes going dark as Kent slowly licks icing off of his lips. 

“Are you talking about that one time in the Q?” Jack says slowly, shifting in his seat at the memory. 

“Guess we’ll find out!” Kent deflects cheerily, grabbing a napkin from the holder and wiping off his face. 

“Now?” Bitty asks pointedly. 

“No, I gotta finish my slice of cake,  _ Alpha _ ,” Kent scolds playfully, booping Bitty’s nose. 

Bitty looks cross-eyed at his nose, before refocusing on Kent, who’s cutting himself a very large slice of cake. They watch as Kent carefully balances a bite on his fork and very slowly wraps his lips around the narrowest part of the fork.

“Couldn’t you eat later?” Jack pleads. 

“Hmm,” Kent hums around the fork still in his mouth, eyes flicking up to theirs as he very slowly pulls the fork out of his mouth. “No. Gotta keep my energy up for the marathon fuck session we’re about to have.” 

“Oh, darling, you don’t have to worry about that,” Bitty growls, leaning down to kiss Kent briefly, but passionately, before straightening up again. “We’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” 

Kent drops his fork and touches his mouth, looking at his cake, before he looks at Jack and then Bitty. He flushes as the scent of his slick permeates the air and Jack and Bitty both move closer to him. 

“Okay, so I changed my mind about the cake,” Kent says. 

“Did you now,” Bitty murmurs lowly, but Jack’s already moving, clearing the plates and cake from the table and putting them in the sink and fridge respectively. 

“Let’s go,” Jack says once he’s done, barely restraining himself from just carrying one of them into the bedroom. 

“Impatient much?” Kent teases, raising one perfect eyebrow. 

Jack stares at that eyebrow for a beat too long before shaking himself out of it. 

“Kent, maybe you should stop teasing,” Bitty suggests softly, but the finger he runs down Kent’s cheek is more warning than caress. 

Kent swallows, eyes flitting between Bitty and Jack. “I can do that. Maybe.” 

“All that we ask is that you try,” Bitty purrs, before exchanging a look with Jack. 

Without skipping a beat, Jack strides over to Kent and picks him up, princess-style, to move towards the bedroom. Kent opens his mouth to protest, but closes it when Jack gives him a look. And then Kent’s being dropped on the bed, and he’s frowning, sitting up and searching through the covers. 

“What are you looking for?” Bitty asks, sitting next to Kent on the bed. 

“Jack’s shirt from yesterday, where is it, I need it,” Kent answers absently, nearly tearing the covers off the bed completely as he looks for the tank top. 

“That? I put it in the laundry basket,” Bitty says, confused. “Jack’s right here, you don’t need it--.” 

“I need it,” Kent says flatly, getting off the bed to get the laundry basket and upending its contents onto the bed. 

“They’re going to get dirty,” Jack protests as Kent gets back on the bed. 

“They’re already dirty,” Kent points out, crossing his arms as he settles back into the bed. 

“Calisse, Kent, you know what I mean,” Jack says. 

“Buy new clothes, I don’t care, now let me suck your dick,” Kent orders. “Bitty, I needed your knot in me like half an hour ago.” 

“Bossy,” Bitty mutters under his breath, shifting to do as Kent says, before freezing as Kent grabs his wrist. 

“Behave,” Kent tells him. 

“That’s my line,” Bitty protests. 

“Not today, apparently,” Jack points out, grinning as he lies on the bed. 

“Christ, okay,” Bitty surrenders, watching wide-eyed as Kent pulls Jack’s boxes down and unceremoniously swallows Jack’s dick down. 

Bitty gets too distracted by the sight, because Kent pulls off of Jack and glares at him. 

“Fine, okay, if you’re going to be so slow about it, I’ll ride him first,” Kent says. “That okay with you, Jack?” 

“Yes, yes,” Jack says, nodding fervently. 

“Fantastic. Bitty, you better not knot until you’re inside of me,” Kent commands as he grabs lube and slicks his hand up. 

“Sir yes sir!” Bitty sasses, taking off his clothes until he’s sitting naked next to Jack on the bed. 

Kent rolls his eyes at Bitty, but then refocuses on slicking Jack up before sinking down onto his dick until Kent’s ass is flush with Jack’s pelvis, his hole stretching easily to accommodate Jack’s girth, heat-slick and hot. 

“Perfect,” Kent groans, shallowing rocking back and forth on Jack’s cock. 

“Tabernak, Kenny, you feel so good around me,” Jack growls, grabbing Kent’s waist. 

Kent lets Jack take control of the pace, arching his back as Jack hits that spot inside him that has sparks lighting up Kent’s vision. 

“Yes, there, there, that’s it,” Kent moans as Jack continues to move Kent effortlessly. 

Bitty crawls towards Kent and starts kissing him, languid and sweet, and Kent can only gasp into Bitty’s mouth as Jack continues fucking into him. Then Bitty moves down, to Kent’s neck, to his collarbones, to his chest, where Bitty just barely closes his mouth around Kent’s nipple before Kent’s clenching down around Jack and coming. And then Jack’s coming, knot catching on Kent’s rim before Jack pulls Kent down further, come spurting into Kent. 

“Oh, that was good,” Kent gasps out. 

“Yeah,” Jack says dazedly. 

Bitty tsks at them both. 

“You don’t need to give 110% for everything,” Bitty admonishes. “It’s only the first day, we have, like, four more days of this.” 

Kent waves him off, and Bitty rolls his eyes, getting out of bed and making his way to the bathroom. He comes back with a washcloth and sets in on the bedside table closest to him. 

“Jack, how long do you think your knot’s going to last?” Bitty asks casually, stroking himself. 

“Well, outside of rut it’s ten minutes,” Jack answers. “It’s been a while since I was off the suppressants, so I actually don’t know if that’ll affect it?” 

“Have you both been on suppressants non-stop since you were eighteen?” Bitty exclaims. 

“Uh, yeah,” Jack says, exchanging a look with Kent, who just shrugs.

“Is that normal for hockey players?” Bitty asks.

“Eh, a lot of players go off suppressants in the off-season,” Jack replies. “Especially if they have a partner. I just don’t usually? The instincts are hard with my anxiety.” 

“So why did you go off them this summer?” Bitty wonders, looking down at Jack, whose face suddenly closes off. 

It’s the same moment Jack’s knot goes down. Kent and Jack both make the same face at the feeling, and Kent flops onto the bed. 

“Ten minutes, regardless of whether I’m in rut or not,” Jack notes. “Good to know.” 

Bitty goes to grab the washcloth to clean up Kent, but Kent grabs Bitty’s wrist, not even bothering to open his eyes. Jack takes the distraction as his opportunity to disappear into the bathroom, where they hear water running. 

“Fuck his come back into me,” Kent says suggestively, letting go of Bitty’s arm to stretch his own arms over his head and arching his back, his pale skin and light hair a striking contrast against the dark plaids that make of the majority of the laundry strewn across the bed. Kent looks up at Bitty demurely, lips pulling into a smile. 

Bitty slides into Kent in one, smooth movement, Kent’s eyes flying open as Bitty hits Kent’s G-spot immediately. Kent gasps and clings to Bitty, hands digging into Bitty’s back. 

“We’re going to breed you up so good,” Bitty murmurs lowly, before dipping his head to kiss Kent briefly. “Going to fill you up so much you’ll look pregnant with our come.” 

Kent just shudders against Bitty, and Bitty grins, leisurely pushing his cock back into Kent. 

“We’re going to stretch you so good, honey,” Bitty murmurs. “You won’t ever tighten back up completely, always a little easier for us, because of us.” 

“Yes, please,” Kent begs, dragging his nails down Bitty’s back as Bitty starts thrusting faster. 

And then Jack’s there, Kent not noticing in his haze, and Jack’s slipping a finger alongside Bitty’s cock, and Kent’s coming, again, but Bitty just fucks him through it, even as Kent tremors from oversensitivity. 

“Color?” Bitty checks in, pinching one of Kent’s nipples. 

“Green, green, I need your knot, please,” Kent gasps. 

“Patience,” Bitty teases. “Good things come to those who wait.” 

“Good things come in those who wait,” Jack corrects, before twining a hand between Bitty and Kent to fist Kent’s cock. 

“No, please,” Kent whines, trying to move his hips away from Jack’s hand, which just pushes him further on Bitty’s dick. 

“That’s not your safeword,” Jack chirps, before he pushes Kent up, closer to Bitty, and sits behind Kent. Then Bitty flips Kent over and fucks back into him. The new position has Kent on his belly, mouth next to Jack’s dick, and Bitty thrusting into him. 

Kent takes the hint and swallows down Jack’s cock, each of Bitty’s thrusts forward pushing Kent further onto Jack, and Kent moans. He starts sucking at Jack, but Jack’s hands in his hair pull gently, and Kent looks up. 

“Just keep my cock warm,” Jack orders gently. “Gotta save my knot for your greedy little hole, eh?”

Kent’s hard again so fast that he feels lightheaded, and he squeezes around Bitty, who comes, knot tying them together. Jack’s dick in his mouth is a warm, heavy weight, making Kent feel floaty. 

“You look so good like this,” Bitty croons, patting Kent’s ass. Kent doesn’t move or respond, just looks up at Jack, who smiles down at him. 

“Jack, god, the way his hole stretches so perfectly for me,” Bitty praises. “Come, look.” 

“I’ve seen it before,” Jack says wryly, carding his fingers through Kent’s hair. 

“Have you seen it in rut?” Bitty counters, voice full of awe. 

“I can’t imagine seeing someone else’s knot in my-- Kent would make me feel the way you feel about your knot in his cunt,” Jack points out. 

“Can you imagine what his hole would look like with both of us?” Bitty muses absently. 

“We’ve done that before, too,” Jack notes. 

“Not while he’s in heat, he’s going to be even wetter,” Bitty says dreamily. “And we’re both coming in him? God, he’s going to positively filthy. Better than the fireworks. ” 

Kent groans around Jack’s dick, and Jack tugs sharply at his hair in silent reproach. Kent pulls his mouth off of Jack reluctantly. 

“If you two don’t, at some point during his heat, get both your cocks in me at the same time, I’m going to withhold sex for, like,” Kent starts, but his threat devolves into a high pitched whine as Bitty’s knot goes down and Bitty pulls out, Kent’s hole trying futilely to clench down on his cock and keep Bitty inside.  

“What were you saying?” Jack asks cheekily, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Mhmurph” Kent manages. 

“Jack, it’s your turn,” Bitty prompts, lying to the side of Kent. 

“Wanna go in together?” Jack offers, slicking himself up and slowly pushing into Kent. 

“Nah, we should save that for when he’s so full of our come that he’ll start crying the moment we put a finger in him,” Bitty corrects. 

Kent moans at the words, and Jack decides to push the rest of the way in with a hard thrust, making Kent groan anew. 

“Bitty’s right, it’s amazing to watch your sloppy hole try and clench down on me,” Jack says conversationally as he steadily fucks into Kent. 

“It’s trying to so hard to tighten up after my knot wrecked it, sweetie,” Bitty coos to Kent. “How long do you think it’ll gape for if I make you take my fist?”

“You’re in rut, there’s no way you’ll fist me when you could have me on your dick instead,” Kent gasps out. 

“We have to sleep sometime,” Jack comments, angling his thrusts so he hits Kent’s G-spot with every stroke. 

“Instead of plugging you up for the night,” Bitty suggests, reaching over to slap Kent’s butt, cheeks jiggling after with the force of Bitty’s blows and Jack’s thrusts.  “We could just use a fist.” 

“Sounds unsafe,” Jack comments nonchalantly, but then Kent decides to be more active and pushes his hips back toward Jack with every thrust in, clenching down on Jack’s cock as Jack moves in and out of him. 

Jack’s coming with just a few rounds of this, knot tying him to Kent, come spurting as Kent automatically clenches down, trying to milk it out of Jack. 

“He looks so tight around your knot,” Bitty observes, tracing a gentle finger on where Kent’s lips pull taut around Jack’s knot. 

“He is, calice, so fucking perfect,” Jack swears, caressing Kent’s ass. 

“”M tired,” Kent slurs beneath Jack, eyes half-lidded. 

“Okay, we can take a break while you nap,” Bitty says, exchanging a look with Jack. 

“Just keep going,” Kent insists, covering a yawn with his hand.

“Sweetie, if you’re tired, we’ll be fine, we can do something else,” Bitty reassures, petting Kent’s hair. 

“No, keep going while I fall asleep,” Kent rephrases before grabbing one of Bitty’s hand and sucking on the thumb. 

“What?” Jack asks. Bitty gently takes his thumb out of Kent’s mouth so Kent can respond. 

“Fuck me til I’m so full of your come that I look pregnant,” Kent purrs, leaning forward to rub noses with Bitty. “Just do it while I’m asleep.” 

“Are you sure, Kenny?” Bitty asks. 

“Why are you so nervous, we’ve done it before,” Kent complains. “Besides, I’m not going to get any sleep without a knot in my pussy, it’s the first day.” 

“What’s your color?” Bitty asks, looking two seconds away from wringing his hands. 

“Green, but if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to,” Kent murmurs. “I’m going to try to sleep now, you do whatever, kay?” 

And with that, Kent closes his eyes. Bitty looks at Jack, who just shrugs. A few minutes later, as Jack’s pulling his dick out, Kent starts snoring. 

* * *

Kent wakes up feeling oddly bloated. It doesn’t feel like when he’s eaten one too many servings of Bitty’s spaghetti, more like when Kent’s had too much water. Then he processes the bodies pressed up against him, sandwiching him between a sculpted chest and hard cock. But the real shock is looking down at his stomach and seeing how it protrudes out. He hasn’t had abs for months, between Bitty trying to fatten him up and not playing hockey professionally anymore, but Kent’s still surprised at how un-strange it is to see his body like this. Pregnant. He can think the word. He looks pregnant. 

And then Kent’s stomach grumbles, and he quickly realizes his utter lack of foresight; namely, how the fuck is he going to eat anything with all the come sloshing around in him? 

“You’re awake,” Bitty murmurs behind Kent, which shouldn’t surprise Kent; the chest in front of him is definitely Jack’s, black chest hair and hockey muscles and all. 

“God, I feel so,” Kent searches for a word to describe what he’s feeling, but can’t find anything to describe how satisfied he is, how full, how perfectly content he is, lying between his Alphas, full of their come. 

“Are you okay?” Bitty asks as Kent pauses a beat too long. 

“Oh god yes, it’s perfect, you’re perfect, I feel so full,” Kent says wonderingly, finally touching his stomach, giving into the urge that’s been hounding him since he touched the Stanley Cup. 

“Okay, good,” Bitty says, relaxing back into the bed. 

“I’m hungry though,” Kent adds. 

“Ugh, okay, I just gotta-- my knot’s gotta go down, but then I’ll go get you some food,” Bitty offers. 

“Sounds good, but uh,” Kent worries his lip. “I, uh, can you plug me?” 

A smile slowly stretches across Bitty’s face. 

“Kent Parson, shying away from talking about his kinks?” Bitty crows delightedly. “I thought those days were behind you!” 

“Shut up,” Kent grumbles. “I like it, okay? Happy?” 

“Like what?” Bitty pushes, and Kent doesn’t have to be facing Bitty to be able to see the look on his face, brown eyes lighting up with mischief and happiness. 

“I like being full of your come,  _ Alpha _ ,” Kent bites out. 

“Was that so hard?” Bitty teases, just as his knot goes down. 

Kent whines as Bitty pulls out, immediately feeling the loss, feeling empty. He looks down at his stomach again, and the sight of its curve calms him down, but he only breathes a sigh of relief  after Bitty slides their biggest plug into him. 

“Do you think you can walk, or do you want me to bring the food to you?” Bitty asks, sliding off the bed and standing. 

Kent takes inventory of his aches and pains. He’s sore, of course, but it’s the good kind, the kind he gets after a particularly thorough fuck. And he’s curious about how it’ll feel to walk like this. 

Bitty helps Kent sit up and get out of bed. Kent almost falls, his legs are so wobbly. Bitty just takes it in stride, grabs their robes, and helps Kent into the kitchen, where he makes sure Kent’s comfy at the table before bustling around and grabbing food from the fridge. 

Kent zones out, the sounds of Bitty in the kitchen comforting and familiar. He looks out the windows in the breakfast nook, idly caressing his stomach. He hadn’t bothered to tie his robe closed, figuring only Jack and Bitty would be seeing him. 

Kent snaps back to reality when Bitty slides the food onto the table. Kent looks at the spread of fruits, cheese, and crackers and then at one of Jack’s protein shakes, before looking at Bitty with a wordless question on his face. 

“Well, I thought you would like something lighter to eat. But you’re in heat, so you need to--” Bitty starts. 

“Eat more protein,” Jack cuts in, from the threshold of the kitchen. 

Jack wakes up alone. He follows the sounds to find them in the kitchen, and stops before entering, mesmerized by the sight of Kent sitting at the table, stomach gently curving out, the sun setting behind him and backlighting Kent’s hair. And then Bitty joins the picture, and Jack’s knees nearly give out from the wave of love that sweeps through him. 

Jack doesn’t think about how much he wants to beg them to stay, forever.  He just smiles at Kent, and says something quippy, and only smiles fondly as Kents sticks his tongue out in response.

Bitty warms up some of the tourtiere he made for Jack’s Cup day and warms it up for the both of them. The three of them sit there as the sun sets, finishing their food. Kent’s the first to sit back and stop eating. Jack spares a glance at Kent’s face and is awestruck by how peaceful Kent looks. And then, Jack glances at Kent’s stomach, and Kent’s hand that hasn’t left it throughout the meal, and Jack reaches for his glass of water. Drinks it. Looks at the tourtiere Bitty made for Jack, specially, and knows that Bitty would do it for any of his friends. 

Jack knows his place in all of this. He’s happy now. It’s enough. 

* * *

Kent spends the rest of his heat being happily manhandled. Eventually, he does have to go to remove the plug and let the come leak out of him, but Jack and Bitty put him in the bath, and leaves him there on his hands and knees, come leaking out. Kent drifts, and when Jack cups his chin some indeterminable amount of time later, Bitty making a little sound. 

“He’s in subspace just from that?” Jack asks incredulously, dropping his hand. Kent whines, moving his head. 

Bitty sits on the lip of the tub and gently rubs Kent’s back, and Kent arched into the touch, mewling. 

“He’s been on the edge for days, haven’t you, sweetie?” Bitty directs the last bit to Kent. “Yeah, we’re going to give you what you need, honey, but first we need to clean you.” 

“Are you sure he’s still good to do it?” Jack asks doubtfully, shaking the enema lightly. 

“Hmm,” Bitty says, biting his lip and looking at Kent. “You have a point. When you’re not in subspace, okay Kent?” 

Jack smiles and puts the equipment away as Bitty reaches for the handheld spout and starts washing Kent. When Jack gets back, the come has been washed down the drain, and Bitty’s rinsing soap suds on a quiescent Kent who’s now sitting on his heels, head bowed. Bitty switches the water off when he’s done, and he turns his head to Jack. 

“Do you want to eat him out?” Bitty offers, carding his fingers through Kent’s hair. 

Jack licks his lips, thinking. 

“I wanna fuck him full again,” Jack says, nearly knotting at the thought of it. “And then I wanna make him stretch around our knots, together.” 

Kent moans. Bitty gently pulls Kent up and out of the tub, but then Kent just melts into Bitty and Jack has to carry Kent into the bedroom. Kent’s soft and sweet and clings to Jack as Jack moves away after laying him on the bed, but then Kent turns and snuggles on of Jack’s many grungy flannels, still on the bed three days into Kent’s heat. 

Jack and Bitty take turns knotting Kent. Kent slowly comes up from subspace. Eventually, they all fall asleep for the night, Jack still inside of Kent. And then they continue to fill him up, Bitty occasionally bringing in food and feeding Kent, until in the evening, Kent turns his head away from the strawberry Bitty offers as Jack fucks into Kent. 

“Too full,” Kent complains. 

Jack and Bitty exchange a look over Kent’s head, and Bitty puts the strawberry down and wipes his hands on one of the flannels on the bed, before slicking his hand and sticking a finger alongside Jack’s cock. 

“No, what are you doing?” Kent whines. 

“What’s your color?” Jack asks. 

“Green,” Kent replies automatically, trying to move his hips to get more stimulation, but Jack grabs Kent’s hips, and Kent stills. 

Bitty inserts another finger, and Kent stops breathing for a moment, trying desperately not to come from the pure sensation of being stretched so much, from the come in already in his channel and then Jack’s dick and Bitty’s fingers. And then Kent does start crying, silently, as Bitty adds a third finger. 

Jack kisses Kent’s eyelids before pressing his lips to Kent’s, the kiss made salty by Kent’s tears.

Bitty carefully pushes in, and Kent stops kissing Jack back, slumps in Jack’s embrace, trying to relax around the intrusion. Bitty pauses, waiting for Kent adjust, and then they’re all moaning in concert as Bitty keeps pushing in. 

Jack licks into Kent’s open mouth, reaching down to fist Kent’s cock, and Kent lets out a sob, overwhelmed. Then Bitty’s all the way in, and they all pause for a moment to savor it. Jack’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, the slide of Bitty’s cock against his in Kent like fisting their cocks together , but better, tighter, wetter, perfect. 

And then Bitty pulls out a little, and it’s too much for Jack, the pulsing wet heat around his dick, Bitty’s cock providing wonderful friction, and he’s coming, knot inflating, and Kent clenches down, comes as Bitty slides into Kent again, and finally Bitty’s coming, cheeks flushed, knots tying them all together. 

They doze or zone out or just lose track of time. Eventually Jack and Bitty soften enough to pull out, and Kent sobs again, not stopping until Jack gently plugs him back up. Jack grabs a washcloth to clean up and hands it to Bitty before climbing into bed behind Bitty. 

Kent’s the first to fall asleep, then Bitty. Jack listens to the duet of their snores until eventually, he falls asleep too. 

When Jack wakes up, it’s immediately clear that Kent’s not in heat anymore, any lingering pheromones easily covered up by the overall smell of sex in the room. Jack cuddles Bitty for a moment longer before getting up. 

He needs a shower. 

* * *

Two weeks later, Jack walks into his bedroom and stops short at the sight of Kent and Bitty packing their suitcases. On closer inspection, they’re not only packing their clothes but also his, which sort of explains why they’re doing this in his room instead of theirs. 

“What are you doing?” he asks warily. 

“Packing!” Bitty responds cheerily as he folds one of Jack’s flannels. 

“Well, yes, but what-- some of those clothes are mine,” Jack points out. 

“Yeah, you’ll need clothes to wear,” Kent says, throwing boxers into the suitcase closest to him. Bitty shoots Kent a dirty look and folds the boxers before putting them back into the suitcase. 

“Unless you’re planning on being naked all the time, which is fine too, just means you can’t leave the house,” Bitty comments. 

“Naked-- what. Where are we going?” Jack asks, confused. 

Bitty puts down the shirt he was holding up, looking at Jack with a puzzled expression. Jack finds that rich; Bitty’s not the one who walked into his bedroom to find his fuck buddies packing clothes for a trip he didn’t know about. 

“Did we do that thing where we had an important conversation during a documentary?” Bitty asks Kent. 

Kent tilts his head back in thought, humming. “Yeah, I think it was that Chris Evans one about the dogs? Which, don’t get me wrong, I totally would have made out with Chris Evans at this fundraiser this one time if he hadn’t been dating Jenny Slate and he’d have been into it, but I’m more of a cat person.” 

“I’m not really a pet person,” Bitty muses, folding a pair of Jack’s shorts. “I don’t mind cats though.” 

“Should we get a cat?” Kent wonders. 

“Oh, we were going to--,” Bitty starts before he’s cut off by Jack. 

“What-- where are you going? What are you talking about?” Jack interrupts, hands curling into fists. 

“Oh, we’re going back to Ithaca,” Bitty answers idly, and Jack’s heart does not sink. “The house is all set up, and I want to get started on planting. Since the hockey season doesn’t start for a while, we thought this would be a good time to go.” 

Jack processes that. “So...why are you packing my clothes? Doesn’t really seem like you need me to come with you.” 

“Need? No, not really,” Kent says absently, standing up and rummaging through Jack’s closet. His voice comes out muffled. “We want you there, though.” 

“And you can set up your room the way you like it,” Bitty puts in, smiling. 

“Well, the season doesn’t start for a while,” Jack says slowly, ignoring the voice in the back of his head urging him to stop clinging, to take this chance for a clean break, to stop setting himself for heartbreak. 

“Exactly! See, I knew this was a good plan,” Kent interjects, coming back from the closet with one of Jack’s jerseys and three hoodies. 

“Hon, it’s summer. Even in Ithaca, you’re not going to want to wear hoodies,” Bitty explains patiently. 

Kent pouts and dumps the clothes in the suitcase anyway. “We have air-conditioning for a reason, babe!” Kent insists as he sits down. “I want them.” 

“And what if I want them?” Jack asks wryly, finally sitting down and grabbing some of the clothes from Bitty to help with folding them. 

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to come over frequently to use them,” Kent says coyly. 

“Kent Parson, are you just going to sit there and flirt or are you going to help us pack?” Bitty scolds. 

“I’m not going to just sit here and flirt, what do you think of me Eric?” Kent exclaims, raising a hand to his chest in exaggerated offense. “I’m also going to look pretty.” 

Kent just ruffles his hair when Bitty looks at him, outraged. Jack catches Bitty’s eyes and raises an eyebrow. Bitty looks back at Kent, who’s taken out his phone and is typing away on his phone, before nodding at Jack. 

“You could at least make yourself useful and get me some water,” Jack says lowly, putting his folded piece of clothing into a suitcase and reaching for one of Kent’s panties. 

“Hmm,” Kent ponders without looking up from his phone. “No.” 

“Well, if you’re just going to sit in one spot, you might as well be useful,” Bitty points out. 

Kent continues to scroll through his phone, unaware of Jack’s shorts are tenting up or Bitty pulling a bottle of lube out of a suitcase. Bitty frowns, and then takes Kent’s phone away. 

“Hey!” Kent’s head snaps up, affronted. “I was using that!” 

“You’ll get it back if you behave,” Bitty says sharply, before nodding at Jack. 

Jack nods back before sitting up on his knees and reaching over to grab Kent by the waist and pulling him over. 

“What are you-- stop,” Kent protests, but doesn’t physically struggle, so Jack has Kent lying in his lap in no time. Kent stops talking when his stomach comes in contact with Jack’s erection. 

“Oh,” Kent realizes. “I can sit in one spot and be useful.” 

“So quick on the uptake, aren’t you,” Bitty says, not looking up from his folding. 

“Hey, I didn’t go to college like you two,” Kent jokes. 

Bitty looks up at that, before giving up on the folding for the time being and coming to sit next to Jack.

“No, you didn’t,” Jack agrees, before pulling Kent’s shorts off, leaving Kent only in a pair of blue mesh panties. Jack swallows. 

“No, you were just busy getting fucked by anyone who would have you, right sweetie?” Bitty says casually, sticking a finger in Kent’s mouth. 

“Is that true, Kent?” Jack asks, letting disappointment edge into his tone. He’s only acting, he tells himself. It’s for the scene. Of course Kent fucked people after the Q, before Bitty.

“Oh yes, he told me all about his sexcapades before me,” Bitty murmurs, dark eyes focused on Kent’s lips around his thumb. “Kenny was particularly fond of glory holes, wasn’t he?” 

“He was?” Jack asks. 

“It was a wonder he hadn’t caught anything, but he knew to be safe,” Bitty continues, pulling his finger out, ignoring how Kent strains to follow it. “That’s how we met, in a club. He was already so fucked out by some stranger that I could slide right in, without any stretching.” 

Jack swallows, caressing the mesh of Kent’s panties. “He’s always stretched easy,” Jack puts in. 

“I’d wondered,” Bitty comments, before carding his fingers through Kent’s hair and tugging sharply. “Guess you’ve always been a cockslut, sweetpea.” 

Jack shifts, dick rubbing against Kent’s stomach in the process. Jack can easily see how much Bitty’s words are affecting Kent, panties almost soaked-through with Kent’s slick. 

“Please,” Kent gasps out. 

“Please what?” Bitty asks. “Use your words, honey.” 

“Please, just, fuck me,” Kent begs. 

Bitty hums, before looking up at Jack. “Do you think he deserves to be fucked?” 

“No, he hasn’t been very helpful,” Jack replies, playing along. 

“Oh, but he got you all worked up,” Bitty remembers. “It’s his responsibility to take care of it.” 

“That’s right,” Jack agrees, slipping a finger under the panties, into Kent’s hole, where Jack barely has to push in before Kent’s lips are squeezing down around the base of his finger. Jack adds another finger, which goes in almost as easily, and then a third soon after. 

“Surprised he’s wearing underwear,” Jack comments casually, not moving his fingers, just keeping them in Kent. 

“Guess he wanted to look pretty for you; otherwise, he doesn’t usually bother wearing anything under his clothes,” Bitty replies, picking up one of the hoodies and folding it. 

“Why does he even bother wearing clothes?” Jack asks. “We should just keep him naked all the time, plugged up, ready for us to slide inside without any warning.” 

“Oooh, we’re never done that before,” Bitty exclaims. “We should save that for a rainy day.” 

“Lower the AC so he has to cling to us to keep warm,” Jack suggests. 

“Please,” Kent grunts, pushing back onto Jack’s fingers. “Just, do, something!” 

“Should I, Bitty?” Jack asks. 

“Hmm, you’re looking awfully cold, Jack,” Bitty notes. “Is his hole loose enough to keep you warm?” 

“You say that like it’s not always ready for my cock,” Jack murmurs, before moving very quickly. He takes his fingers out of Kent, and then the panties off of Kent, pulls his dick out of his shorts without bothering to remove them completely, and has Kent impaled on his cock in one sharp thrust. 

Jack grabs the panties from where he discarded them and wipes his hand with them. Kent moans. 

“We can’t have you making a ruckus and distracting us from packing,” Bitty scolds, looking at Jack meaningfully. 

Jack takes the panties and hands them to Bitty, who stuffs them in Kent’s mouth. 

“There, now you don’t have to think about being quiet,” Jack purrs into Kent’s ear before reaching around Kent to grab a pile of clothes and folding them slowly. 

Kent just sits on Jack’s cock as Bitty and Jack finish up the packing, his whimpers and moans as Jack moves muffled by the fabric is his mouth. Once in a while, Jack sneaks a hand up Kent’s shirt to tweak a nipple, savoring how Kent squeezes around him in response, before turning back to the organizing. 

Kent’s gone quiet once they’re finally done packing, and Jack carries him to the bed, Bitty close behind. Jack slowly, sweetly fucks Kent, drawing it out, until Kent starts gasping and then moaning for Jack to  _ hurry up, please, Jack, I want your knot _ , and then Bitty’s kissing Kent quiet again, and Jack just keeps fucking into Kent so slowly until Kent’s crying quietly, fat tears rolling down his cheek. Jack comes to the sight of Bitty licking up the tears, and shoves his knot as far as it’ll go into Kent. 

“So good,” Kent slurs. 

Jack flips them so Kent’s lying on top of him, and Bitty cuddles into Jack’s side. 

“Can’t wait to do that in every room of our new home,” Bitty says. 

Jack pretends that Bitty’s including him in that too. That  _ our _ means Jack too, instead of just Bitty and Kent.

* * *

They’re in Ithaca three days later, Kent driving, Jack offering incorrect directions from the backseat, while Bitty brainstorms ideas for his channel. 

“Jack, for the last time, I can’t just turn into that street, it’s one-way!” Kent says irritably, knuckles white around the steering wheel. 

“Jack, stop backseat driving, you’re distracting Kent,” Bitty says absently, fingers a blur as he types away on his phone. 

“The roads here make no sense,” Jack grumbles, sitting back and crossing his arms. 

“Are you pouting, Zimms?” Kent asks. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“Have you ever sat in the backseat of your car? It’s so small,” Jack exclaims. 

“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever sat there,” Kent says suggestively, looking in the rearview mirror to catch Jack’s blush. “Oh come on, I’ve literally had your fist up my ass, and tame car sex is what makes you blush?” 

“Kent, behave,” Bitty says firmly, not looking up from his phone. 

“Whatever,” Kent dismisses, before meeting Jack’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “We can explore how much space you have back there later if you want, Zimms.” 

Jack blushes more, giving Kent a small smile before clearing his throat. “Keep your eyes on the road, Parse.” 

Kent rolls his eyes, but turns his attention back to the road. Ten minutes later, they’re pulling into the driveway. They see the back of the house first, and Kent parks. Jack gets out and strides out, and just stops for a moment, taking in the expanse of blue water downhill from the house, stretching out as far as Jack can see. Kent and Bitty catch up to him a few moments later. 

“Whoa, that’s a view,” Jack observes, eyes going wide in amazement. 

“I know, right?” Bitty agrees. “The moment we saw it, it was like, we’ll do whatever renovations we have to, but we’d wait even longer to live somewhere this close to the water.” 

“We can go canoeing,” Kent adds, hugging Bitty from behind and leaning his head on Bitty’s shoulder. 

“It’s amazing,” Jack says. 

“And there’s actually a lot of privacy, with the trees and everything,” Kent says, getting more and more excited. “I mean, Ithaca isn’t exactly a hockey town, but people are going to have to go out of their way to invade our privacy.” 

“It’s perfect,” Jack agrees, feeling wistful. 

He likes his apartment back in Providence, but it only ever feels like a home with Kent and Bitty there. And with a house like this, he can’t imagine them visiting often. 

“Come on, or I’ll lock you out!” Kent warns from where he and Bitty are standing, next to the front door. 

“Coming!” Jack calls back, taking one more look at the lake, before turning to go inside. 

The inside is modern but warm, hardwood flooring and clean lines, open-concept. That’s the extent of the interior design knowledge Alicia managed to impart onto Jack. He zeroes in on the more comfortable couch he’s ever seen, a soft grey that reminds him of the color of Kent’s eyes right before Jack kisses him. Jack toes off his shoes before making a beeline for the couch, but then stops on the softest carpet he’s ever felt. 

“Wicked carpet, right?” Bitty says from behind Jack, startling him. 

“Don’t have to worry about rug burn with it,” Kent agrees. 

Jack turns to face them, feeling a little sheepish. 

“I really like the place,” he says. 

Bitty beams, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I’m so glad to hear it! It was a big decision, moving here, but I love the East Coast and Ma’s here, and this house is just everything we ever dreamed of and more.” 

“I can’t wait to drink coffee on that porch,” Kent says, looking out the living room’s windows to the patio furniture. 

“That’ll be another couple of years, sweetie,” Bitty says fondly, tilting his head up to give Kent a quick peck on the cheek. 

Jack’s mouth goes dry. “Are you--?” 

“No,” Kent rushes to reassure Jack. “Well, I don’t think so. I have an appointment with my doctor in a couple of weeks, since it’s been about a year since we started trying, but no, I quit caffeine to get used to it, just in case. It was a bitch the first couple of weeks, but it’s kind of nice, now. Since I get to sleep as long as I want, and all. Plus, coffee takes like ass. So I guess I can’t wait to drink something warm on the porch.” 

“You always did like the spicy pumpkin thing,” Jack recalls. 

Bitty and Kent exchange a look and chuckle. 

“It’s pumpkin spice,” Bitty gently correctly, putting a warm hand on Jack’s elbow. 

“I know, I bought you like fifty of them in college,” Jack replies, smiling. 

“It wasn’t that many,” Bitty hedges. 

“You’re right, it was definitely closer to a hundred,” Jack teases. 

“Now you’re just chirping me, Mr. Zimmerman,” Bitty protests. 

“Yeah, I am,” Jack admits, grin growing bigger. 

“And here I was thinking I’d celebrate by fucking you on this carpet,” Bitty continues. 

“You can fuck me on the carpet,” Kent says suggestively. 

“Oh honey,” Bitty says. “That’s not a celebration, that’s a day ending in ‘y’.” 

“Hey!” Kent protests. “I’m not that easy.” 

“Oh, you are,” Jack says firmly. 

“But we love that about you,” Bitty finishes, before curling his arms around Jack. “Now, Jack, are you going to behave for me? Or are we all just going to go to bed, unsatisfied?” 

Jack licks his lips slowly, looks around the picture-perfect house that will never be his home. “What if I want you to make me behave?” 

“Oh, it would be my pleasure,” Bitty purrs. “Here or in the bedroom?” 

“Guys, we have to unpack the lube first,” Kent interrupts. 

“Don’t you have some in the glove compartment?” Jack asks, not looking away from Bitty. 

“The glove compartment of the car that we park outside during the summer a frequently?” Kent shots back, raising an eyebrow. “Do you even know what that kind of heat does to lube?” 

“Do you?” Jack retorts. 

“Boys, boys, you’re both smart,” Bitty interjects. “We don’t need lube, we just need hand cream, which I have in my backpack. 

“Where’s your backpack?” Kent asks. 

“In the car,” Bitty answers smoothly. “But before we start fucking, we should eat. Do you want to order takeout or run down to Wegmans and eat something there?” 

“Takeout,” Jack says immediately, not wanting to make himself presentable to go out. 

“Wegmans it is then!” Bitty says, clapping his hands together and walking down the hallway to the bedrooms. 

Jack looks at Kent, who hadn’t said anything. Kent just smirks. 

“You said you wanted to him to make you behave,” Kent explains vaguely, shrugging. “You’re going to look so good on your knees for him.” 

Jack gulps. 

* * *

After a too long dinner at Wegmans, Bitty excuses him to use the restroom, telling Kent and Jack to get the car started and AC running. They wait, car idling, until Bitty comes out, holding a reusable tote bag he did not enter with. 

“What’s in the bag?” Jack asks as soon as Bitty gets into the backseat next to him. 

Bitty clicks his tongue disapprovingly, setting the bag down on the seat of the car as he buckles himself in. 

“Now Jack, if I didn’t want it to be a surprise, I wouldn’t have lied about needing to use the restroom” Bitty explains slowly. 

“You lied about using the restroom?” Jack asks, confused. 

“Like Bitty would use a public restroom if he could avoid it,” Kent scoffs, making eye contact with Jack as he reverses out of the parking spot. 

“I’m not a philistine,” Bitty agrees airly, turning his nose up. “Do you know how many germs they have?”

“Why are you sitting in the back?” Jack asks, because it’s always Kent and Bitty in the front, Jack left alone in the back. 

“Well, I thought you could give me a foot rub on the way home,” Bitty says, twisting until his feet are in Jack’s lap. 

“You can’t be serious,” Jack says incredulously. 

“Tick, tock, Jack. The house is only ten minutes away,” Bitty says, smiling. It involves a lot of teeth. Jack takes off Bitty’s shoes and socks and starts to massage. 

It’s weird at first, but then the repetitive motions sooth Jack into zoning out. He’s startled from his reverie by the sound of the driver side door slamming shut as Kent leaves. Jack goes to move Bitty’s feet from his lap, but Bitty’s foot pressing down on Jack’s crotch stops him in his tracks and has Jack half-hard to boot. 

“What’s going on?” Jack asks. 

“I thought I’d demonstrate how much space there is in the backseat,” Bitty says sweetly, before reaching into the tote and pulling out a pack of nitrile gloves and lube. “Since you seem to think it’s cramped.” 

“It is cramped,” Jack insists, watching as Bitty takes off his red shorts, keeping on the tank top that Bitty definitely stole from Kent. 

“Mhmm,” Bitty hums, taking out a glove. 

“Those look too big for you,” Jack notes. 

“Oh, do you think you’ve behaved enough for my cock?” Bitty comments, straddling Jack. “That’s funny, Mr. Zimmerman.” 

“What are we doing then?” Jack wonders as Bitty grabs Jack’s hand and pulls the glove on it. 

“Well, I’ll be fucking myself on your cock, while you try not to move,” Bitty says, pouring lube onto the glove and then grabbing Jack’s wrist to direct it to the curve of Bitty’s ass. 

Jack hardens further, and Bitty smirks as he feels Jack’s chub against his own, but directs Jack to insert a finger in Bitty’s ass. 

“Why can’t I move?” Jack asks. 

“You said it yourself, Jack, it’s so small,” Bitty chirps, rocking his hips on Jack’s finger, walls tight and hot and different from Kent’s. “I wouldn’t want you to bang a knee or your head back here.” 

“It’s not that small,” Jack admits. 

“Put another finger in,” Bitty orders. “And I’d like to believe you, Mr. Zimmerman, but I don’t know if you’re thinking clearly right now.” 

“I’ll be careful,” Jack insists. 

“What if I just want you to be still?” Bitty says as he pushes down on Jack’s fingers. “What if I just need you to be a good boy and listen to me?” 

“I can do that,” Jack says eagerly, eyes dilating as he watches Bitty fuck himself on Jack’s fingers 

“It doesn’t really seem like that so far, Jack, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt,” Bitty comments, grunting as he tries to get Jack’s fingers in deeper. “Give me another finger.” 

Jack complies, and they fall silent, the only noise in the car Bitty’s soft pants and groans as he opens himself up, Jack just providing the fingers Bitty’s fucking himself open with. 

Bitty sits back on Jack’s knees, and Jack only has a second to mourn the loss of Bitty’s warm weight on his crotch before Bitty’s tugging Jack’s dick out of the confines of his clothes and then sinking down until Bitty’s ass is flush with Jack’s pelvis. Jack thrusts up reflexively, and Bitty immediately moves up until only the tip of Jack’s cock is in Bitty. 

“I told you not to move,” Bitty says, hands on the seat behind Jack’s shoulders for leverage. 

“I’m sorry,” Jack babbles, hands going to Bitty’s waist. Bitty swats them away with one hand. “I’ll be good, I promise.” 

“You better be,” Bitty says darkly, before sinking back down onto Jack and rolling his hips. Jack keeps his hands on the car seats next to him, trying not to move or even breathe too deeply as Bitty continues to fuck himself on Jack’s cock, the only skin-to-skin contact between them the slow drag of Jack’s cock against Bitty’s walls, pulsing warm and tight around Jack. Jack resists the urge to turn his head and kiss the inside of Bitty’s arm where it passes by Jack’s ear to cling to the car seat. 

“So close,” Bitty moans. “Are you going to come with me, Jack?” 

“If you want,” Jack pants. 

“Good answer,” BItty says, smiling, sweating with the strain of riding Jack, hair dark dropping with heat. 

Bitty leans in and tugs gently on Jack’s earlobe with his teeth before sinking down on Jack’s cock, just above where Jack’s knot is starting to bulge. 

“Come,” Bitty purrs into Jack’s ear just as Bitty clenches down, and Jack is coming, just like that, knot pressed against Bitty’s hole but not going in, come spurting inside Bitty. 

Jack leans his forehead against Bitty, who leans in and kisses Jack sweetly. Jack pants into the kiss, hands going to Bitty’s back as Jack tries to deepen the kiss, but Bitty pulls away as they hear a knock on the window. 

It’s Kent, who opens the door and sticks his head in. 

“Sorry to interrupt the afterglow, but we should get the bags into the house before it gets any darker,” Kent says, dancing eyes betraying how sorry he actually was. 

Bitty sighs, but climbs off Jack and slides his shorts back on, clearly not caring about the mess Jack’s come will make of them leaking out of Bitty and gets out of the car. Jack grabs some napkins from the glove compartment and gently cleans his dick, wincing at the rough texture on his orgasm-sensitive skin. 

“Have fun?” Kent asks, still smiling. 

“You did that on purpose,” Jack grumbles, pushing past Kent to get out of the car. 

“Sure did!” Kent replies cheerily. “It’s not safe to sit in a hot car during the summer, Zimms.” 

“Thank you so much for your consideration,” Jack says sarcastically. 

“Just looking out for you, bud!” Kent says, kissing Jack on the cheek before jauntily moving towards the trunk, where Bitty has already gotten one suitcase out. 

Jack follows and laughs as Bitty cracks a joke, as Kent accidentally hits his head against the roof of the car. Jack doesn’t even feel jealous when Bitty calls Kent ‘sweetpea’ or other pet names, his heart doesn’t skip a beat when Kent tells Bitty ‘I love you’ as Jack brings Kent a bottle of water. 

The sun’s setting. Jack will be back in Providence soon enough, and all he’ll have are these memories, so he’ll make the best of it while it lasts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm still relatively new to the fandom, so if you want to scream at me outside of the ao3 comment box, my tumblr is also ravenreyamidala! let me know what your favorite moments were! or your least favorite moments! or what you think will happen next! i haven't finished tagging or writing this story, so there is still time to fit things in. (is that a pun? hmm.)


	4. delayed gratification? what's that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not a whole lot that happens in this chapter. Just, some domesticity, some sex. Everything's fine.

Kent wakes up the day before they’re driving back to Providence and immediately makes a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it in time to throw up in the toilet. Jack comes in seconds behind Kent, grabbing a glass from the sink and filling it up with water before handing it off to Kent. Kent takes it gratefully and rinses his mouth out before sipping at it. 

“You okay?” Jack asks, taking the glass back. 

Kent sits back, away from the toilet, and takes stock of himself. He’s a mess of nausea and various aches and pains, different from the kind he usually feels after being fucked into the bed. He looks up at Jack, who immediately sits and opens his arms for Kent to cuddle into, which Kent shakes his head at. He’s not sure if the vomiting has passed, so he wants to be close to the toilet just in case. He doesn’t notice how Jack’s face closes off in response. 

“I think I’m sick,” Kent says finally, after his stomach stops churning as much. 

“What gave it away?” Jack says. “Do you want to go to the doctor?” 

“It’s nothing, I was just at the doctor’s,” Kent protests. “If it gets worse, I’ll go.” 

Jack hums, unconvinced. 

“I promise! Bitty will make me,” Kent insists. 

“You’re good at hiding things,” Jack points out. “If it gets worse, how do I know you won’t hide it to avoid going to the doctor?” 

“I’m not that stupid,” Kent says hotly, ignoring Jack’s cough. “Just because I lied about hockey injuries doesn’t mean I want to be sick any longer than I have to be.” 

“Okay, Kent, I believe you,” Jack says gently. 

“Can I have that hug now?” Kent asks, voice small. 

“Of course, Parse, come here,” Jack cajoles, and Kent goes, settling into Jack’s arms. 

“I’m fine, the only reason I’m cuddling is because I like cuddles, okay?” Kent says as a disclaimer, leaning his head against Jack’s chest and enjoying the vibrations of Jack’s chuckles. 

“Of course, Kenny,” Jack says softly, laying his cheek on top of Kent’s head. 

Eventually they pull apart, and they go through their morning routine, brushing their teeth, showering together, (“This is more efficient,” Kent insists. “So no sex?” Jack asks, before Kent tilts his head up for a kiss that turns into a makeout session that only ends as the water runs cold) and putting on cozy clothes for the road trip. Bitty’s still asleep when Jack and Kent are done, but wakes up quickly as Kent decides to give him a morning blowjob and Jack plays with Bitty’s nipples. Bitty doesn’t actually end up opening his eyes until his knot goes down, blinking up at Jack. 

“A boy could get used to waking up like that,” Bitty chirps, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Well, don’t, I was feeling generous,” Kent sniffs, before turning back to the vanity mirror and carefully rearranging his hair so it fell artfully instead of his crazy bedhead. 

“Aw, baby, don’t be like that,” Bitty pouts. 

“I’ll give you a suckjob tomorrow,” Jack promises, carding his fingers through Bitty’s hair. 

“No one ever offers to give me a morning beej,” Kent complains, hands falling from his hair as he decides his hair is acceptable. 

“You wake up earlier than both of us,” Jack points out. “I value my sleep.” 

“He’s got a point, sweetie,” Bitty says, nodding.

“Nuh-uh, y’all can’t gang up on me, that’s unfair,” Kent protests. 

“Who said anything about being fair?” Bitty asks. 

“We’re more fair than the ref in your last game,” Jack points out. 

“All of my checks were legal!” Kent defends. 

“Uh-huh,” Jack says skeptically. 

“Bitty, tell him,” Kent whines. 

Bitty makes a show of thinking back, biting his lip and looking at the ceiling. 

“Well, I think they were,” Bitty admits. “But it was so long ago, I can’t remember.” 

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty,” Jack grumbles. “Otherwise you wouldn’t get away with half the shenanigans you do.” 

“I get away with things because I’m fucking good, not because I’m gorgeous,” Kent says airly. 

“You certainly are good at fucking,” Bitty says. 

“I may not be the most recent winner of the Stanley Cup in this room, but I am the one with the most wins,” Kent says haughtily. 

“Most wins ever,” Jack points out. 

“Well, yes,” Kent says. “But that sounds like bragging.” 

“And the other thing didn’t?” Bitty wonders.

“Sounds like worse bragging?” Kent tries, shrugging a shoulder. “Whatever, get up, let’s go explore Ithaca.” 

“We did that while we lived with your mother,” Bitty points out. “Ithaca’s not very big, sweetie.” 

“I know, but Jack hasn’t” Kent points out. 

“I have not, this is true,” Jack says wryly. 

“We should go hiking!” Kent exclaims. 

“In this weather? Kent Parson, I did not leave Georgia just to sweat in the summer,” Bitty says, appalled. 

“You were a college athlete!” Kent says incredulously. 

“I’m not hiking,” Bitty says flatly. 

“Maybe we could go out on the lake, have a picnic,” Jack suggests. 

“Oh, that sounds nice!” Bitty says, sitting up. “And we should have enough time after to pack.”

“Again with the packing?” Kent whines. 

“You don’t have to pack, you can just stay here while we go back to Providence for Jack’s Cup Day,” Bitty says sweetly. 

“Fine, packing it is then,” Kent grumbles. 

“If Kent doesn’t want to pack, I don’t see why he should have to,” Jack tells Bitty. 

“Oh?” Bitty asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, he can entertain us, put on a little show. We could shove him on a vibrator and see how many times we can make him come,” Jack says. 

“That’s an idea,” Bitty says thoughtfully. 

“I vote for that one, yes,” Kent interjects eagerly. 

“I think it would be even better if we didn’t let him come, though,” Bitty continues. “It’s been a while since we did some orgasm denial, right honey?” 

Jack doesn’t say anything, figuring Bitty is talking to Kent. Instead, he walks to the mirror and grabs the brush from Kent, intending to comb his own hair. 

“Hey, don’t use my hairbrush, jerk,” Kent exclaims grabbing it back. “And yeah, Bitty, it’s been a while. I’m in favor of revisiting and testing out all the kinks.” 

“So that’s our plan for the day then, canoe picnic, and then we pack while we slowly drive Kent out of his damn mind,” Bitty says firmly, getting out of bed. “I’ll go get started on the food.”  

“I think you should probably brush your teeth first,” Jack says, deadpan. 

* * *

They have to cut the canoe picnic short, because Kent throws up over the side of the boat into Cayuga Lake. Jack eyes Kent suspiciously, but Kent waves him off, attributing it to motion sickness. 

* * *

They wake up late the next morning and scramble to get everything together until they’re finally on the road, Jack’s fist digging into his cheek at he listens to some pop artist whose name starts with B; Jack honestly cannot tell if it’s Britney or Beyonce, despite several powerpoints on the subject from Bitty. 

Two hours in, Kent yields the wheel to Jack and curls up in the backseat. Two hours later, when Jack realizes how long the car’s been quiet, he looks in the rearview mirror, only to be surprised by the sight of Kent fast asleep. He squints at Kent’s slumbering face in the rearview mirror. Kent slept in that morning, which is why they all woke up late. Jack doesn’t know if the exhaustion is because of the five orgasms he and Bitty wrung out of Kent the night before or because of whatever illness Kent is fighting, but he resolves to keep a closer eye on Kent. 

“We should invite your teammates over for your Cup Day,” Bitty says brightly, putting his phone down in the cup holder. 

“I mean, yeah we could,” Jack hedges, making a right turn. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve talked to Tater, I could make him some ponchik and sharlotka. I wonder how maple syrup would work with the sharlotka,” Bitty rambles. 

“We could invite them over, but why?” Jack asks. 

“Well, it would be fun. Plus, don’t you want to introduce your teammates to us?” Bitty asks. 

“They’ve met both of you already,” Jack points out. 

“Well, not as your--,” Bitty starts, before a groan from Kent in the back seat interrupts him. “Sweetpea, are you okay?” 

Jack glances at the rearview mirror, which shows him a distinctly queasy-looking Kent. Weighing his options, he decides to turn into the nearest parking lot -- the parking lot of a McDonalds-- and parks the car. As soon Kent hears the locks click open, he’s opening the door and puking onto the asphalt. Bitty, alarmed, rushes out of the car and re-enters through the door on Jack’s side so he can comfort Kent, hushing Kent soothingly as Kent cries in Bitty’s chest.

“I think you should go see a doctor, bud,” Jack says as gently as he can. 

“How long have you been sick, Kenny?” Bitty asks, carding his fingers through Kent’s hair. 

“It’s only been a day or two,” Kent says into Bitty’s chest, voice muffled. “I think it’s just a stomach bug.” 

“I think it would be good if you went to see a doctor,” Bitty pushes. 

“Why, so they can tell me there’s nothing they can do?” Kent exclaims, pulling back from Bitty to look him in the eye. “If it’s a virus, there’s no point.” 

“If it’s a bacterial infection, a doctor could help,” Jack says. 

“It’s only been a day, I’m sure I’ll get over it soon,” Kent says stubbornly. 

“You’re going to the doctor tomorrow,” Bitty threatens. 

“But tomorrow is Jack’s Cup Day!” Kent protests. 

“You’re on thin fucking ice, Parson,” Bitty growls. 

“Look, it’s just nausea, it’ll be gone soon enough,” Kent insists. 

“I guess I can’t make the decision for you,” Bitty huffs, but the way he rubs his hand down Kent’s back is gentle. 

“I’m an adult, I know how to take care of myself,” Kent says. 

“Yeah, you do,” Bitty concedes. “Sorry, honey, I’m just worried.” 

“I’ll go to the doctor if I don’t get better in a couple of days, yeah?” Kent cajoles. 

“You’d better,” Jack chimes in, deciding that it’s probably safe to leave the parking lot and putting the car in reverse. 

“Wait,” Kent says, biting his lip when Jack and Bitty turn to look at him. 

“Yes, Kent?” Bitty answers as he buckles his seatbelt before reaching out to do the same for Kent. 

“Uh, I’m hungry,” Kent admits. 

“Okay, Jack, pass me the snack bag, what do you want sweetheart?” Bitty asks. 

“Well, actually, I’m kind of in the mood for one of McDonald’s apple pies?” Kent says quietly. 

Jack drops the snack bag into Bitty’s outstretched hands as they both gape at Kent. Jack’s the first to recover his voice. 

“Why?” he asks with the confusion of a child who had just been told they could not bring their stuffed animal to school. 

Bitty places the back of his hand on Kent’s forehead. 

“You’re not running a fever, but I think we should move up that doctor’s visit, honey,” Bitty says fretfully. 

“No, it’s not because I’m sick, I just-- want one,” Kent insists. 

“Why?” Bitty asks with the betrayal of a child whose stuffed animal has been taken away. 

“I just want one, if you’re not going to get it for me, can we just leave?” Kent says grumpily, crossing his arms. 

“Of course I’ll get it for you,” Bitty coos. “I just don’t understand why.” 

“Do you have to understand why?” Kent bites out. 

“No, I guess not,” Bitty says, looking hurt. 

Kent softens. “I’m sorry, Bitty, I just-- I don’t really understand either, but it just seems like it would be so satisfying to eat right now. You get that right?” 

“Well, I guess I’ve eaten a bagel bite or two in my time,” Bitty concedes. “Jack-- where did he go?” 

Indeed, the driver’s seat is empty, car idling with the keys in the ignition. 

“What the fuck?” Kent exclaims, right before the door opens and Jack ducks in with a McDonald’s bag. “Is that--?”

“Yeah, bud,” Jack says, handing the bag off to Kent.

Bitty can only watch as Kent takes out a piece and eats in two bites. 

“That’s the stuff,” Kent sighs in relief, before grabbing another pie from the bag. 

Bitty meets Jack’s eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“What?” Jack says defensively. “I wasn’t going to say no to him and I knew you wouldn’t either.” 

Kent finishes the second pie and burps loudly, patting his stomach. 

“Wow that was so good,” Kent says, sighing in satisfaction. 

Bitty glares at Kent. 

“Not as good as any of your pies, of course!” Kent backtracks quickly, stuffing the McDonald’s bag into their bag of trash as if removing the visual affront from Bitty’s sight will remove the memory from his head. 

“Better not be,” Bitty grumbles, but softens as Kent hugs him. 

“Don’t worry, I love you best,” Kent soothes, rubbing his cheek against Bitty’s shoulder. 

Jack starts the car and reverses out. They still have two more hours until they’re in Providence. 

* * *

“Kent, go lie down for a nap,” Bitty orders as soon a they walk into Jack’s apartment. 

“I’m not tired,” Kent whines. 

“You’ve yawned five times in the last three minutes, you need to sleep,” Bitty points out. 

“I napped in the car. Besides, didn’t they teach you in college that yawns don’t actually mean you’re tired?” Kent protests, before nearly walking into a wall. 

“I have to agree with Bittle here, Kent,” Jack interjects, watching Kent look confused at the wall. 

“This proves nothing!” Kent says as he heads to the bedroom. “I’m just humoring you because I love you!” 

Jack doesn’t understand why these two insist on being so lovey-dovey, but he likes pretending that the declarations of love include him, so he doesn’t say anything. He turns to Bitty. 

“So, Eric,” Jack says. “What are we doing?” 

“You, sir, are calling up your teammates and inviting them over for your Cup Day tomorrow,” Bitty says firmly. “I’m going to get started on the desserts and check in with the caterers about the food.” 

“Wait, you’re getting it catered?” Jack asks. 

“I knew I could talk you into having more people over,” Bitty says, shrugging. “Now, go call your friends, Mr. Zimmerman.” 

“Okay, Bittle,” Jack says, before walking to the living room as Bitty makes his way to the kitchen. 

After calling up everyone Jack knows is still in town and then the Samwell crew for good measure, Jack wanders back into the kitchen, where there’s already a pie baking in the oven. 

“Tabernak, how did you already get a pie in?” Jack wonders. He knows Bitty is a baking wunderkid, but he’s still surprised sometimes. 

Bitty turns to face Jack, pointing to the phone pressed to his ear as he does before holding a finger to his lips. Jack nods and mimes zipping his lips, before starts quietly cleaning the dirty dishes already piling up in the sink. 

“Sorry about that,” Bitty says after he hangs up. “Just a minor misunderstanding about the time, but don’t worry, we straightened it out.” 

“You’ve never done anything straight in your life,” Jack says immediately, before abruptly closing his mouth. Bitty just laughs, delighted. 

“You’re certainly right about that, Jack!” Bitty agrees, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jack offers, looking at the supplies laid out on the counter. 

“Yeah, can you peel and slice those apples? Thin slices, not dicing,” Bitty directs. 

“Are those for the sharlotka?” Jack asks, washing his hands before grabbing a knife. 

“Yep! And for your favorite, maple apple pie,” Bitty says cheerily as he rolls out some dough. 

“You don’t have to make two different apple desserts for me--,” Jack starts but Bitty cuts him off. 

“Nonsense, Jack, it’s your Cup Day, that doesn’t just happen every day,” Bitty exclaims. “Besides, I didn’t really make anything special for your birthday, so this is me making up for that!” 

Jack’s cheeks warm with the memory of his birthday, shifting as he remembers being tied up. 

“You may not have made any food for me, but we made some pretty great memories, eh?” Jack says, smiling. 

Bitty looks up from his dough, smiling. “Yeah, that was a fun day.” 

“Poor Kent,” Jack muses. “Wasn’t used to not being the center of attention.” 

“Are you kidding?” Bitty says. “He loved it just as much as you did.” 

“Really? Huh,” Jack reflects. 

“Kent’s biggest kink is making his partner happy,” Bitty tells Jack. “It’s why we kept meeting up after the first hook-up. He was just, so attentive in bed. It was very flattering.” 

“Yeah, he’s usually very considerate of other people,” Jack mutters under his breath. 

Bitty looks up from where he’s patting the dough into a pie tin. “What was that?” 

“Nothing, just wondering if I remembered to call Snowy,” Jack answers, not looking up from the apple in his hands. “I did call him.” 

“That’s good, we wouldn’t want to leave anyone out,” Bitty says, pouring baking beans into the dough-lined pie tin. 

Jack laughs. If only Bitty knew. They work in tandem, Jack steadily peeling apples as Bitty works the dough and cooks pie-filling on the stove. 

Kent wanders in some time later, rubbing his eyes, dressed only in one of Jack’s jerseys, exposing miles of long, toned legs. Jack tears his eyes away from the sight when Bitty clears his throat. 

“You’d best be wearing underwear in my kitchen, Kent Parson,” Bitty scolds, waving a wooden spoon at Kent. 

Kent rolls his eyes. He walks to the island and grabs an apple before jumping onto the counter next to the sink, away from all the food on the island. Jack can see a bit of Kent’s underwear. It’s pink. Jack refocuses on his apples and doesn’t try to determine which pair of panties Kent could be wearing. 

“What are you making?” Kent ask before biting into his apple. 

“Sharlotka,” Bitty says as the timer for the over goes off. He walks over and looks at it. “It looks about done, good.” 

Bitty grabs some oven mitts and takes the dessert out of the oven, putting it on the counter furthest from Kent. 

“Can I try some?” Kent asks, making his eyes wide.

“No, it has to cool first,” Bitty scolds. “Besides, it’s not for you, it’s for Tater.” 

“Sharing is caring, Bitty,” Kent pouts. 

“Sweetpea, you say that like you’ve shared a day in your life,” Bitty scoffs. 

“Excuse me, of everyone in this room, who is the only one who’s not an only child and also has had two dicks up his cunt at the same time?” Kent protests. 

“Do you have to be so crude, sweetheart?” Bitty asks, making a face. 

“My pussy is a gift that I’m very good at sharing,” Kent says proudly. 

“Is it really sharing if we’re exclusive?” Bitty asks. 

“Yeah? I mean, I could just be fucking you instead,” Kent points out. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve done that,” Bitty muses. 

“Bitty, I’m done with the apples,” Jack cuts in, offering the bowl of slices to Bitty. 

“Oh, wow, these are really uniform, great job, Jack!” Bitty exclaims, before turning to Kent, who’s doing something on his phone. 

“Kent, don’t you think Jack deserves a reward for being so helpful?” Bitty suggests meaningfully.

“You just want me out of the kitchen because I’m not wearing pants,” Kent says flatly. 

“And because you’re very distracting and I won’t  finish everything I need to do before tomorrow if you stick around,” Bitty says. 

“Are you trying to make me feel better about being kicked out?” Kent says suspiciously. 

“Is it working?” Bitty asks, fluttering his eyelashes. 

“Curses. Yes,” Kent admits, hopping off the counter and entwining his elbow with Jack’s. “Would it be a reward for you if you suck my dick? I think that could be rewarding.” 

“Rewarding for you, maybe,” Jack retorts as they leave the kitchen. 

Their voices trail off as they get further from the kitchen, leaving Bitty to his baking. 

* * *

Bitty brings lasagna with him to the bedroom, figuring that Kent and Jack worked up an appetite. He barely bats an eye at the sight of Kent sat on top of Jack’s dick. Kent, to his credit, keeps riding Jack without skipping a beat. 

“I brought food,” Bitty announces, shutting the door behind him.

“Calisse, you’re perfect,” Jack gasps out. 

“Excuse me, who’s been riding your monster cock for the last hour,” Kent scoffs. “This is the loudest you’ve been the entire time.” 

“What can I say, bud? You make me breathless,” Jack says sincerely. 

Kent pauses. “That was smooth,” he admits. 

Jack just winks at him, but the effect is immediately ruined when Jack groans as Kent rocks his hips. 

“This lasagna is going to get cold if you don’t hurry up,” Bitty says impatiently. 

“I’m trying,” Kent pouts. “Jack’s being stubborn.” 

Bitty sets the lasagna down on the dresser before moving closer to where Jack’s lying down. 

“You just need a helping hand, sweetie,” Bitty says patiently, tracing circles around Jack’s nipple with his finger. 

“Please help me,” Kent says. 

Bitty reaches over and tugs Kent’s cock once, twice, until Kent’s coming. Kent immediately flops onto Jack. Bitty gently pushes him off of Jack completely and onto the bed. 

“What do you want?” Bitty asks Jack. 

“Whatever you want,” Jack looking up at Bitty through hooded eyes, licking his lips. 

“I want you to come, what’ll help you the most?” Bitty says patiently. 

“Kiss me?” Jack asks. 

“Gladly,” Bitty says, leaning down to press his lips to Jack’s. Jack immediately opens his mouth, makes the kiss deeper, moaning as Bitty bites down on his bottom lip. 

And Bitty feels, rather than sees, Kent reach over and fist Jack, and then Jack is finally coming, moaning into Bitty’s mouth. Bitty keeps kissing Jack, until Jack pulls away. 

“Wow,” Jack says, chest heaving. 

“We should clean up,” Kent says. 

“If you’ve getting out of bed, you can meet me in the kitchen to eat dinner,” Bitty says. 

“Yes, sir,” Kent says, salutely lazily. 

“It’s Daddy and you know it,” Bitty says sharply, before grabbing the lasagna and leaving the room without another word. 

“Daddy?” Jack chirps. 

“Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it, _ Daddy _ ,” Kent says deliberately. 

Jack looks at the ceiling, thoughtful. 

“Not really my thing,” Jack decides. 

“Yeah, it sounded wrong as soon as I said it,” Kent agrees. 

* * *

Kent spends the five minutes after he wakes up the next morning puking into the toilet again. Thankfully, Jack doesn’t follow him in, because Kent doesn’t want to put a damper on Jack’s Cup Day. He waits a minute for his stomach to settle before he gets up and starts the shower. Taking off his shirt, he hisses as it brushes roughly against his chest. 

He’s in the shower, and the water against his chest causes the same ache when Kent drops the bar of soap in realization. 

He rinses off quickly and dresses equally as fast, sending a quick text off to Bitty about running out for toilet paper before he closes the apartment door behind him, taking off for their car in a dead run. 

He fumbles with the keys before he has the car unlocked and takes a moment to calm himself before turning the ignition on and reversing out. 

The bar of soap lies on the floor of the shower, forgotten by Kent in his rush. 

* * *

Jack wakes up slowly, but then all at once when he notices Kent’s not in bed with them. He checks the bathroom, gets worried about the abandoned soap, and then checks the rest of the apartment, trying not to panic when he doesn’t find Kent anywhere. He walks back to the bedroom slowly, trying to convince himself that Kent is fine and failing, so he wakes up Bitty. 

“I don’t know where Kent is,” Jack says as soon as Bitty blinks an eye open. 

“Huh?” Bitty says blearily, before furrowing his brow in thought. “Did you call him?” 

“I did, he didn’t pick up,” Jack replies. 

“My phone, gimme,” Bitty says, huddling further into his blankets. 

Jack picks it up, the movement lighting up the screen, revealing that Kent texted Bitty. 

“He texted,” Jack says slowly, and Bitty closes his eye. “He went out to get toilet paper, but that doesn’t make any sense, we have plenty of toilet paper.”

“Probably a surprise then,” Bitty mumbles. “I’m going back to sleep.” 

Jack sighs in relief, but his anxiety is a low-level thrum at he goes through his morning routine. He decides to go for a run in an effort to shake the jittery energy, and it works up until he gets back to find Bitty making waffles in the kitchen but no Kent. 

“Where’s Kent?” he asks, wiping off his face with the bottom of his shirt. 

“Apparently he decided to go to the doctor,” Bitty says cheerily, opening the waffle maker and depositing the waffle on a plate he hands to Jack. 

“Without one of us? And so soon?” Jack questions, grabbing good maple syrup from the cabinet above the fridge, the one Kent can’t reach. 

“Honestly, I’m just glad he went. Hopefully he won’t be too late for the party,” Bitty shrugs. 

“You’re not worried?” Jack presses, looking down at his waffle. 

“Oh honey, I’m sure he’s fine, it’s probably just a bug like he said,” Bitty soothes. 

Jack opens his mouth to explain that isn’t what he is worried about when the doorbell rings. 

“That must be the Hall of Fame rep!” Bitty says. “I’ll get the door, I already ate, you finish up.” 

Jack can hear the murmur of their voices, but not what the conversation is about. He slowly eats his waffle, maple syrup ignored. When he finishes, he rinses his plate off and sticks it in the dishwasher before taking a shower. 

The rep and Bitty have settled on the couch and are watching on of the baking shows on Netflix. When they catch sight of him, the rep stands up, holding out a hand for Jack to shake. Jack steps forward and does so. 

“Linnea Night, pleasure to meet you,” she says, accent ambiguous. 

“Uh, Jack Zimmerman, same,” Jack says awkwardly, before dropping her hand. 

She sits back down next to Bitty. Jack awkwardly hovers for a moment before he sinks into the recliner. 

“So Eric here was telling me about how he met you,” Linnea says. 

“Yeah, we played on the same team in college,” Jack says absently, checking his watch. “Where’s Kent?” 

“Do you want me to call him?” Bitty asks, beginning to look worried, finally. 

“Who’s Kent?” Linnea asks. 

“My fiance,” Bitty answers immediately as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through to find Kent’s contact. “He left early this morning to run some errands, but it’s been a while.” 

Just as Bitty starts dialing, the front door opens, and Kent calls, “Honey, I’m home!” 

He walks into the living room, holding a tote bag, before stopping short at the sight of the rep. 

“You’re Kent Parson,” Linnea points out. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Kent says ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Oh, this is terribly unprofessional of me, but could I get an autograph? I was such a huge fan of yours,” Linnea gushes. 

Kent glances at Jack, whose face is stony. Kent winces, turning back to Linnea. 

“Maybe later,” Kent says. 

“I’ll be sure to remember!” Linnea replies. 

“Uh, I should change,” Kent says awkwardly, before ducking out of the room. 

He can hear Bitty making his excuses to Linnea and stops to let Bitty catch up to him. 

“Sweetpea, you were gone so long, you worried us!” Bitty chides quietly. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Kent says. “I had to drive further than I liked, didn’t want anyone to recognize me.” 

“I thought you were at the doctor’s” Bitty hisses. 

Kent grabs Bitty’s hand and pulls him into the bedroom, partially closing the door behind them. 

“Well, I wasn’t,” Kent admits. “Well, not entirely.” 

“You better start making sense soon, Kent Parson,” Bitty whispers furiously. 

“You know how I’ve been sick,” Kent starts. 

“Yes, Kent, I  _ know _ ,” Bitty mutters. 

“Let me finish,” Kent says patiently. “Well, this morning, I wondered if maybe I wasn’t actually sick.” 

“Kenny, you’ve been throwing up, what else could it be-- Oh,” Bitty says, eyes growing wide. 

“I-- I was going to do this without you, because I didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing,” Kent explains. “But then, in sickness and in health, right? I wanted you to know as soon as I did.” 

“Oh honey,” Bitty murmurs, eyes filling with tears. “We should get Jack, he’ll want to--” 

“It’s his Cup Day, if it’s-- if I’m not, we can tell him after,” Kent says. “I don’t want to ruin this for him.” 

“It’s your choice, honey,” Bitty concedes. “I think he’d like to be here for you either way though.” 

“Okay, I’m going--I should take a test, right?” Kent says anxiously. 

“If you want to,” Bitty replies. 

“I’m going to take a test,” Kent says more surely, nodding his head. “Yep, I’m going to do that now.” 

Kent puts the tote down on the dresser and takes out a small box before disappearing into the ensuite bathroom. He’s out less than a minute later, holding a rectangular plastic stick. 

“The instructions say it’ll take two minutes,” Kent says, taking a deep breath. 

“It’s going to be okay, either way,” Bitty says, sounding more like he was trying to soothe himself than Kent. 

“Yeah,” Kent breathes out. 

The next seconds tick out, torturously long. Kent paces, carefully clutching the pregnancy test, while Bitty just watches. Finally, Kent’s phone timer goes off, and Kent goes still. 

“Kenny?” Bitty asks tentatively. 

“I can’t look,” Kent admits. “Do it for me, please?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Bitty says gently, taking the test from Kent. 

A beat passes. 

“Don’t leave me in suspense, asshole,” Kent snaps, not noticing the bedroom door open. 

“You’re pregnant,” Bitty bursts, grabbing Kent in a hug. 

“I’m pregnant?” Kent says in wonderment. 

“You’re pregnant?” Jack says numbly from the door. 

“Jack!” Bitty greets, bouncing over to Jack and crushing him in a hug. “Isn’t it wonderful!” 

“Yeah,” Jack says, flatly. “Congratulations, you two.” 

Bitty’s looking at the test again, so he doesn’t catch what Jack said, but Kent does and his face falls. The doorbell rings, and Jack disappears as suddenly as he appeared. 

“Jack?” Kent calls, voice small. 

Bitty immediately snaps to attention at the sadness in Kent’s voice. 

“Sweetie, what’s wrong? Do you want me to get you something?” Bitty frets, checking Kent over for any visible injuries. 

“Why did Jack say ‘Congratulations, you two’?” Kent asks. “Bitty, something is wrong, we have to talk to him--.” 

The doorbell rings again. Bitty looks at Kent, smile fading, replaced by determination. 

“You’re right, but it’ll have to wait until after the party,” Bitty states. 

“I don’t know if I can go out there like this, Eric,” Kent says, trembling. 

Bitty gently pushes Kent to sit on the bed. 

“Kent, breathe in with me, okay? You have to calm down, sweetheart. We’ll fix this, I promise,” Bitty declares, making his breathing slow and deliberate, standing in between Kent’s legs. Kent buries his head in Bitty’s stomach, but matches Bitty’s breathing as Bitty plays with Kent’s hair. Slowly, Kent calms down and stops shaking. 

“I’m okay,” Kent says. “I’m okay, let’s do this.” 

“You sure, sweetpea? You can stay in here, I’ll make up an excuse.” 

“No,” Kent shakes his head. “I want to celebrate, we’re supposed to be happy.” 

“Okay, Kent,” Bitty concedes. “If you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure,” Kent says firmly, lifting his chin. They walk out into the living room, hand in hand, but then Bitty gets pulled away to deal with a catering snafu, and Kent’s left to fend for himself. 

Ordinarily that wouldn’t be an issue. But today? Kent tries, really, during the party to laugh and mingle and socialize. He and Tater actually get along now, and Kent tries to talk to the other players, but he’s self-conscious. And he’s keeping an eye on the number of beers Jack’s drinking-- Kent’s pretty sure that Jack is on his third bottle, which worries him. 

The players are awkward around Kent: the rookies awestruck, the veterans gruff and unamused by Kent for the most part, even though Kent’s trying so hard to be a good host. It doesn’t help that Jack is clearly avoiding Kent, and the Falconers pick up on it; logically, Kent knows it’s good that Jack’s teammates are so protective of him, but Kent’s irritated. He’s not feeling particularly charitable. 

So, surprisingly for him, Kent’s actually happy when everyone leaves. Finally, they’re alone. Kent doesn’t even try to touch the Cup this time, but he remembers seeing Bitty cleaning out the champagne the Falconers dumped in there. 

Kent finds Bitty in the kitchen, putting away the few leftovers they have. 

“Hey,” Kent says, immediately going to embrace Bitty from behind. 

“Hi, sweetpea,” Bitty says fondly. “How are you feeling?” 

Kent ignores the question, because he doesn’t know how to answer it. “Where’s Jack?” 

“I told him to get into bed,” Bitty replies, turning in Kent’s embrace so they’re eye to eye. “Stop avoiding the question, Kent.” 

“You told him to go to sleep? Bitty, we need to talk to him,” Kent exclaims. 

“I know you were keeping track of how much he drank, Kent Parson, and that boy was in no state to be talking to us about anything deeper than a puddle,” Bitty scolds. 

“He’s a hockey player, three beers is nothing,” Kent points out, letting go of Bitty in favor of ruffling his hair. 

“Honey, you know Jack doesn’t drink,” Bitty says gently. 

“I don’t either!” Kent says. “It doesn’t mean I’m a lightweight now.” 

“Kent,” Bitty says in a warning tone. 

Kent rakes his hands through his hair, absolutely wrecking his carefully arranged curls. “I’m worried, okay? I love you, and I know we’ll be okay, but fuck, Zimms and I-- I don’t want to lose that, Bitty.” 

“You’re jumping to worst-case scenario, sweetheart,” Bitty says, walking to the table. Before Bitty can sit, Kent buries his face in Bitty’s stomach. Bitty runs his fingers through Kent’s hair. 

“Look, we’ll talk. Maybe you just misheard him,” Bitty continues. 

“Then why did he avoid me during the party?” Kent asks, voice muffled. 

“A lot of his teammates were here, he hasn’t seen them at a party in a while, maybe he was just catching up,” Bitty says, voice hopeful. 

“Do you really believe that?” Kent wonders, tilting his head up to look at Bitty. 

“I-- I don’t know,” Bitty admits. “But sweetie, I’ll go insane worrying about what’s wrong if I let myself start. I-- I don’t want to lose him either.” 

Kent chuckles derisively. “What a mess we’ve made of this.” 

“Maybe,” Bitty says. “But I know that it’s going to get better.” 

“Promise?” Kent asks. 

“I promise that no matter what happens next, we’ll face it together,” Bitty promises, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Kent’s forehead. 

“Okay,” Kent breathes out, before pressing his face back into Bitty’s stomach. 

“We should probably eat dinner,” Bitty muses. 

On cue, Kent’s stomach grumbles, and he looks back up at Bitty, sheepish. 

“What do you want to eat, sweetpea?” Bitty asks. 

Kent’s shaking his head, standing up and pushing down on Bitty’s shoulders until he sits. 

“You’ve been doing so much today, bud, I’m tagging in,” Kent says firmly. 

“Kenny, it’s fine, I can get you something to eat,” Bitty protests. 

Kent looks down at Bitty and smooths Bitty’s cowlick down, smiling as it pops back up. 

“We’re partners, babe. I got this,” Kent insists. “Besides, you’ll be spoiling me plenty when I’m further along.” 

Bitty’s eyes grow wide as Kent turns away, and he rises from his seat. “You’re pregnant, no, you should relax, I can get the food.” 

“If you start treating me like I’m an invalid before I’m even showing, Eric, we are going to have a much bigger problem on our hands,” Kent threatens, opening the fridge and surveying the options. “I can handle reheating some food.” 

“Okay, dear,” Bitty says, sitting back down. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Kent notes, taking a glass container of chicken parmesan out of the fridge and putting it in the microwave. 

“I think the chicken would be better if you used the oven,” Bitty ventures. 

“Yeah, I kind of want to be in bed within the next half hour, so, yeah,” Kent shoots down immediately. 

“That’s fair, that’s fair,” Bitty backtracks. 

“I know it’s not going to be anything like what you make,” Kent says, opening the fridge again and taking out a carton of apple juice. “But I want to do this, okay? This is something I can do. I can help.” 

“Of course you can!” Bitty rushes to reassure, standing up again. Kent shoots him a warning look, and Bitty sits back down. “Kent, you’re an enormous help.” 

“Yeah? It doesn’t feel like that sometimes,” Kent confesses, putting the juice down. 

“Oh, Kent,” Bitty says low and sad. 

“I know it’s silly, I just-- I don’t really do anything since I’ve retired,” Kent says. 

“Well, it’s a big adjustment, sweetheart,” Bitty points out. 

“It’s been a year, and I’m just-- god, Bitty, I love hockey, but it sucks to realize that without hockey, I don’t-- my whole life was hockey for so long. What do I do without it? Is there anything I can do? You have your channel and your baking and Jack has his photography and documentaries, and my entire life is now you two,” Kent says, eyes tearing up. “And it’s great, I love you two so much, but I can’t just-- I have to have more. And a baby isn’t going to change how I feel, except I’m going to have less time and less energy to try and be more than ‘Kent Parson, hockey player.’”

“Honey, I don’t know what to say,” Bitty manages eventually. “Do you-- I thought you wanted the baby.” 

“I, no, that’s not what I meant, of course I want this baby,” Kent exclaims, touching his stomach. “Fuck, no, that’s not what I meant.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way earlier?” Bitty asks softly. 

“I didn’t know how to say it, Bitty, it was fine for a couple of months, and then we were in Providence, and everything with Jack, and-- I had to face it, earlier. The space Jack fills, that would be empty if-- Bitty, we have to talk to him,” Kent pleads. “We have to fix this. I can’t lose him again.” 

“Can I hug you?” Bitty asks, eyes watering. 

“Fuck, yes, please, stop asking,” Kent replies, bracing his arms against the island and letting the tears fall. 

Bitty’s hugging him a moment later, and they cry together, until Bitty stop sniffling and Kent stops shaking with the force of his sobs. 

“I think you should Skype Amanda,” Bitty finally manages, an indeterminate amount of time later, pulling away from Kent and rubbing the tears off his face. 

“That sounds like a good idea,” Kent agrees, breathing out shakily. “Will you talk to your therapist too?” 

“Yeah, I’ll text Christopher about an appointment right now,” Bitty says, taking his phone out. 

They finish texting and put their phones away just as the microwave dings. Kent walks over and grabs the food, and Bitty grabs some utensils from the drawer along with two glasses and the apple juice. They sit at the table with their meal. 

Kent cuts up a bite and is chewing it when he stops. Bitty, pouring out some apple juice, doesn’t notice. 

“Bitty, I’m pregnant,” Kent says. 

“I know, I was there this morning,” Bitty replies, taking a sip of his juice. 

“No, I’m  _ pregnant _ ,” Kent stresses. 

“Yes,” Bitty says slowly. 

“My last heat-- neither of you used condoms,” Kent says.

A beat passes. 

“Oh, fuck,” Bitty swears. 

* * *

Kent wakes up the next morning, nauseated. He makes for the bathroom, but has to settle for puking into the sink. No one follows him; Bitty sleeps deeply, and Jack is sleeping in his room. 

When Kent deems his stomach is finished, he brushes his teeth. After rinsing, he squints at himself in the bathroom mirror, debating whether or not he should crawl back into bed, before deciding against it. He’s awake now; there’s no going back to sleep for him, especially when he’s itching with the need to talk to Jack as soon as possible. 

_ You have to wait for Bitty before talking to Jack, _ he reminds himself, making his way out of the bedroom into the kitchen. He’s tired, and he plugs in the coffee machine from force of habit before realizing he can’t drink any. He unplugs it before he remembers that he lives with people who do drink coffee in the morning and groans, not bothering to get it going as he moves on to pouring out some cereal for himself. Kent mutters darkly under his breath when he realizes they’re out of milk, bu settles himself at the table to eat his breakfast. 

Kent’s crunching on his cornflakes when Jack walks into the kitchen. They make eye contact, and Kent can see the pain in Jack’s eyes before Jack clears his throat and looks away, busying himself with the coffee machine. 

“Good morning,” Kent says softly. 

“Morning,” Jack says gruffly. 

“That was a fun party yesterday,” Kent tries. 

“Yeah, it was nice to see everyone,” Jack says shortly. He grabs the carafe and turns the faucet on to fill it, his back to Kent. 

Kent ignores his urge to say anything to break the silence as Jack fills up the coffee machine with water, and as Jack puts in the coffee grounds, but Kent continues to stare at Jack’s back, he finds he can no longer resist saying something. 

“Zimms, talk to me,” Kent pleads. 

“What is there to talk about?” Jack asks, back still facing Kent. 

“Yesterday, my pregnancy, you were so--,” Kent begins, watching as the coffee machine finishes brewing and Jack pours the coffee into a travel mug. 

“Oh yeah, congratulations,” Jack interrupts, just as flatly as he had the day before. “You and Bittle will be great parents.” 

“Jack,” Kent starts helplessly, following as Jack exits the kitchen and walks to the front door. “Jack, you can’t just run away from this, we should talk about this.” 

“What’s there to talk about?” Jack says cooly, finally looking at Kent. “We had a fun couple of months, you and Bittle spiced up your sex life, I got laid regularly, that’s all there is to it.” 

“What, Jack, that’s not what it was about,” Kent protests. 

“Stop lying, Parson,” Jack says tiredly. “We both knew this was never going to last.” 

“But, I thought,” Kent flounders. “Jack, I--.” 

“I don’t want to hear it,” Jack says, holding his hand up. “Just, stop, Parse. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” 

“I don’t understand,” Kent says, trying valiantly not to cry or let his voice shake. “Jack, I don’t understand, I thought-- I thought we were-- why are you-- this isn’t you.” 

“You have no idea who I am, so stop pretending you do,” Jack says calmly. “Look, I think it’ll be for the best if you and Bitty go back to Ithaca sooner rather than later.” 

“You’re kicking us out?” Kent says, making a wounded noise in the back of his throat. “What about the baby?”

“I don’t care, it’s probably not mine anyway,” Jack says, but his hands curl into fists. Kent doesn’t notice, focused on Jack’s face. “This is for the best, Kent. You’ll see that eventually. Clean breaks heal faster.”

With that, Jack’s out the door, leaving Kent behind, his world collapsing as he sinks to his knees.

Bitty finds him there, curled up, minutes or hours or years later, Kent doesn’t know. Kent doesn’t hear anything Bitty says, can only hear Jack’s parting words, see Jack’s face, cold and remote. 

“Where’s Jack?” he finally processes Bitty asking. 

Kent shakes his head. Bitty hugs him tighter, and Kent can feel his tears against Kent’s skin. 

“Bitty, let’s go back to Ithaca, please,” Kent begs. He doesn’t call it home, because it’s not, without Jack. 

“We should try talking to him again,” Bitty tries to convince Kent, but Kent just shakes his head. 

“No, he was pretty clear, Eric, please,” Kent pleads. 

“I-- sweetpea, if you feel that strongly, but something doesn’t feel right, I think-- if you don’t want to talk to him, I can,” Bitty says. 

Kent shakes his head again. “Bitty, I can’t be here any longer.” 

“Kenny.” 

“Please, Bitty,” Kent says, one last time. 

“Okay,” Bitty says. “Okay, we’ll go back to Ithaca.” 

Kent doesn’t say anything about Bitty not calling it home either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whelp.


	5. everything comes back to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack goes to a bar after losing a game. Kent, Bitty, and Swoops go to Providence to watch the Aces play the Falconers. There are a lot of conversations!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i did post this chapter originally like a week ago, but then some of you may have noticed i took it down shortly after. my apologies for that!! i realized there was more finetuning to be done, which brings me to who helped me with edits, namely @palateens. dude, thank you so much for all your suggestions. y'all, this is such a better chapter because of them.

The buzzer sounds, and that’s it. They’ve lost another game. It’s November, and Jack can’t remember the last time they won a game. He’s not usually one for exaggeration, but Jack’s the kind of tired that has nothing to do with the game he just played, or the one the night before, or the one before that. It doesn’t even feel like the kind of tired that comes from sleepless nights spent tossing and turning in a too-big bed; Jack’s had a bit too much experience with both, especially recently, and so he knows that it’s something else.  

“Anyone want to go out tonight?” he finds himself asking, surprising both his teammates and himself. 

Maybe it’s not that surprising. Misery loves company, and so a group of them end up in a bar near the rink, everyone a bit more subdued than usual. Except for Jack, who’s actually more social than usual, something his teammates keep harping on about, to his increasing annoyance. 

“Are you really Jack Zimmermann?” Thirdy jokes a few rounds in, hand clutching his Shirley Temple. He had already been chirped to hell and back for his choice, but Thirdy just shrugged. Jack’s still nursing his first and only beer, but he’s eyeing the shots a bachelorette party has lined up on the bar. “I can’t remember the last time you initiated an after-game bar hop.” 

“Ha, ha,” Jack says flatly. “I have fun.” 

“Oh, but Zimmboni not having much fun lately, no?” Tater teases, elbowing Jack. 

“I went to the park the other day and took some pictures of the wildlife,” Jack muses. “That was peaceful.” 

“Is this my future when I’m super old like you?” Dime, the latest draft pick, asks skeptically. Looking at the boy, all of 18 years old, Jack feels weary to his bones, something he hoped he had left behind when he was eighteen. 

“Oh Dime, Zimmermann’s always been this way,” Paddy reassures. “Don’t worry, you’ll still be getting mad pussy at 35 if you keep your teeth as nice as Zimmermann has. Probably even if you don’t.” 

“Well, I should go home to my wife and kids, if we’re getting to the frat boy stage of the night,” Thirdy says, chuckling. “Make sure I don’t have to bail any of the rookies out tomorrow morning, okay Tater?” 

Thirdy gets up and makes his way around the table, exchanging handshakes and hugs with some of the guys, before clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. 

“Hey, walk with me to my car,” Thirdy commands. 

“You’re not my captain anymore,” Jack points out. “You can’t order me around anymore.” 

“You’re always going to be a rookie to me, rook,” Thirdy says. “Now, come on.” 

Jack sighs but slams back the rest of his beer before following Thirdy out of the bar. In the parking lot, Thirdy rummages around in the backseat of his car and comes up with a water bottle that he hands to Jack, who cracks the seal and sips at it. 

“You doing okay, Zimmermann?” Thirdy finally says, after they’ve been leaning against his car for a while. It’s pretty warm for November, but Jack’s been feeling the cold easier these days. He tells himself he’s growing old. Some days, he even believes it. 

“Yeah, you know, as good as you can be on a losing streak,” Jack mutters darkly, before taking a bigger sip of water. 

“You, uh, still seeing that therapist of yours?” Thirdy asks awkwardly. 

Jack can’t even muster the energy to feel annoyed about Thirdy’s prying. He tilts his head back and wishes for a brief moment that he could see the stars. He has fond memories of stargazing. 

“Yeah,” Jack finally settles on. “Yeah, I’m still seeing my therapist. I have an appointment tomorrow.” 

“Good,” Thirdy murmurs. “You know, if you ever need anyone else to talk to Jack--.”

“I know,” Jack says. And he does. He just doesn’t know if he’s worth it. 

The conversation quickly wraps up after that, and Jack walks back to the bar. Tater’s at the bar now, with a couple other guys, chatting up one of the women who’s wearing a bachelorette party t-shirt. Jack settles at a nearby stool and turns his attention to the TV, which is playing an Aces game. Because of fucking course. 

Paddy and Dime come up behind him and sit next to him. 

“Even when you’re supposed to be having fun, you’re focused on work, huh?” Paddy observes, looking at the game. 

“What the fuck do you mean, Paddy?” Jack asks flatly. 

“Well, we’re playing them next week, you’re reviewing tape, right?” Paddy says. 

Dime opens his mouth, but looks at Jack’s face, and wisely closes his mouth. 

“Yep. I am. Totally reviewing tape,” Jack repeats. He spares a glance at Tater, who is still chatting up the bachelorette party girl, and decides that being at his apartment would be better than being at the bar, no matter how quiet and empty his bedroom seems these days. He settles his tab and leaves. 

He’s in his car before he tunes back in, his mind drifting to warmer months as he shivers. Thankfully, his apartment is close, and he’s turning the key in the front door in five minutes. He closes the door behind him and tries to balance on one leg to take off his shoe. After he nearly falls over, he sits on the ground and takes the shoes off that way, placing them on the rack by the door. 

He decides it’s nice to be on the floor and just leans back on his hands, looking around his apartment. Jack can only see part of the living room from here, and it’s like the kitchen doesn’t exist. It doesn’t look so big and empty from where he’s sitting. 

That’s the thought that finally has him crying, alone, curled up against the door. 

“I’m going to be at the Aces game in Providence next week, you two better be there,” Swoops says as soon as Kent picks up the phone. 

“Just come to Ithaca,” Kent retorts. “I’m pregnant, I don’t want to sit in a car for six hours and then be somewhere too loud to actually have a conversation.” 

“You were the one who decided to elope and not invite any of your friends,” Swoops points out. “I’m fining you. You have to come.” 

“You can’t fine me, we don’t play anymore,” Kent protests, getting his keys out to unlock the front door. 

“Remember that incident in the bar when you were a rookie?” Swoops muses. “You know, when you--.” 

“Yes, I remember, give me a sec” Kent cuts in as he walks in, covering the mouthpiece of his phone. “Bitty, I’m home. You were saying?” 

“All I’m saying is you owe me, man” Swoops continues. 

“I thought we agreed you were going to stop bringing that up like ten years ago,” Kent whines. 

“You suggested that, I never agreed,” Swoops says gleefully. 

“Ugh,” Kent groans, walking into the living room and flopping onto the couch. “Fine, I’ll come, but you better give me a foot rub, asshole.” 

“I guess if that’s what the great Kent Parson wants,” Swoops chirps. 

“What I want is not to go to the game, but I’ll settle for a foot rub,” Kent corrects, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“Dude, if you really don’t want to go, I can just come to Ithaca,” Swoops backtracks. “Like, I totally get why you wouldn’t want to see Zimmerman.” 

“Ugh, can you not?” Kent sighs. “Listen, it’s fine, it’s been a while since we watched a game in person, it’ll be nice.” 

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Swoops asks shrewdly. 

“Look at you, all emotionally intelligent or whatever,” Kent says. “No, seriously, I should-- it should be fine. Clean break. Whatever.” 

“Okay,” Swoops says skeptically. “Just letting you know, it’s totally okay if you change your mind.” 

“I know,” Kent says softly. “Thanks, Jeff.” 

“All right, let’s stop with this emotional shit or I’m going to start crying and no one wants that,” Swoops dismisses. “Did you watch the Aeros game last night?”

After the conversation ends, Kent wanders into the kitchen, but Bitty’s not there. Frowning, he looks in the bedroom, not finding Bitty there either, before checking the nursery. 

“There you are!” Kent exclaims in relief. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Sorry I didn’t come find you, sweetpea,” Bitty says. “I wanted to finish hanging up the pictures we chose, and then I started looking through this photo album.” 

“God, you and your scrapbooking, you’re so old-fashioned,” Kent teases, sitting on the floor next to Bitty. “I thought we were going to do hang the frames up together tomorrow.” 

“Well, I started filming the before part of the nursery video, since it’s already painted, and then the walls looked so empty, and I managed to get up three pictures before I realized I needed a ladder,” Bitty explains. “And I’ll have you know that scrapbooking is an art form!” 

Kent just chuckles and looks over Bitty’s shoulder at the photo album. They look through it silently, until Kent puts his hand down on a page. 

“I remember that day,” he says, tracing the border around a picture of them on a picnic blanket. 

“That was in Providence, right?” Bitty recalls. “We had a lot of fun that day.” 

“Jack took this picture,” Kent points out, looking at the picture intently. “It’s kind of funny, really. He would have been the best wedding photographer, even at the courthouse. All of these pictures, and we look happiest in the ones he took.” 

“I don’t think Jack has a better sense of timing than other photographers, hon,” Bitty says softly. “I think-- we were happy with him. He made us happy. Knowing that he wanted to take a picture of us-- I always thought it meant something that he hardly ever took pictures of other people, but he had so many pictures of us.” 

“It didn’t mean fucking anything,” Kent says savagely, before suddenly pushing the photo album away from him. 

“Kent, be careful with that--,” Bitty starts, before seeing the tears falling down Kent’s face. “Oh, babe.” 

“Bitty, I miss him so much,” Kent sobs. “Everything-- everything else is working out, and I’ve already been down this road with Jack, and I just don’t-- how can it hurt this much still?” 

“I know, Kenny, I know,” Bitty says, voice breaking. “I miss him, too.”

“And I keep wondering how he must be doing, and it’s so hard to realize I don’t know anything about what he’s doing right now-- we were living together! I used to-- we used to know what he did. Now we’re just strangers,” Kent continues. Bitty leans into him and rubs Kent’s back soothingly as Kent stops fighting the tears. 

“I think about him every time I film something,” Bitty says softly, quietly crying. “He helped me pick out my camera. He helped me with editing and even filmed the house tour video for my channel. I don’t-- it’s going to be hard, for a while, Kent.” 

“It’ll get better though, right?” Kent pleads. “It has to.” 

“Yeah, it will,” Bitty says half-heartedly. “We’ll just keep ourselves busy and make sure that we keep communicating, and eventually, it’ll be okay.” 

Kent just nods against Bitty’s chest. 

* * *

“Bitty, we don’t need to bring a blanket to the game, it’s not going to be that cold,” Kent insists. 

“I know, but just in case!” Bitty says, putting the soft green blanket into their bag. 

“The only way we’re using that is if your Southern blood gets cold during the game,” Kent says. 

“Be that as it may, I’m still bringing it,” Bitty says, before shutting the trunk of the car. 

“Oh, are we finally ready to get out of the parking lot?” Kent snarks. “Brilliant.” 

“You’ll be thanking me later when you’re feeling hungry,” Bitty says airily as they walk to the entrance. 

“I could just buy something inside,” Kent points out. 

“And risk heartburn? Sure, Kent,” Bitty says patronizingly.

“I want to protest that, but you’re right and I hate it,” Kent notes. 

“And listen, if you want to leave, just let me know, we can go whenever,” Bitty says suddenly. 

“I’m fine,” Kent says, putting his gloved hands into his coat pockets. “Same goes for you too, okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Bitty parrots, before looking sheepishly at Kent. 

“Okay, so maybe we’re not exactly fine, but it’s only one game,” Kent says. “We can do this, and Swoops will be there.” 

“What a relief,” Bitty says dryly. 

“Hey, Swoops is a great friend,” Kent defends. 

“Oh, honey, I’m not denying you, I was just chirping,” Bitty says. 

“Right, sorry,” Kent says. 

“No, you’re fine. We’re both just a little on edge, but it’ll be fine,” Bitty says reassuringly. 

“We say fine too much,” Kent notes. 

“It’ll be okay,” Bitty corrects, rolling his eyes. They fall silent as they walk in and go through security. 

“Where are we sitting?” Bitty asks, trying to look at the tickets over Kent’s shoulder. 

“Looks like Swoops has us on the glass,” Kent says. 

“Oh, will we be near the sin bin?” Bitty asks. 

“Yeah...for the Falconers,” Kent says slowly. 

“What, that can’t be right,” Bitty exclaims. 

Kent hands the tickets over wordlessly and keeps walking, until they enter the stadium. Swoops is off on the side of the doors, looking sheepish. 

“What the fuck, dude?” Kent yells as soon as they’re close enough. 

“I thought they were for the Aces’ side, I’m so fucking sorry bro,” Swoops says. 

“Can we exchange them?” Bitty asks. 

“For, like, really shitty seats,” Swoops says. 

“You’re saying that you can’t exchange tickets for seats near the home team’s sin bin?” Kent says skeptically. 

“Look, it’s the Falconers, you know the usual players that’ll end up in the sin bin,” Swoops says. “Do you know how hard it was to get glass seats for a game with the reigning Stanley Cup Champions? Let’s just try to enjoy the game.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Kent grumbles, but follows Swoops to their seats. Maybe Tater will end up in the glass box-- Kent hasn’t talked to him since. Well. 

Kent sits down, unzipping his coat. Seated like this, in his Aces jersey, his stomach is more obvious, four months into the pregnancy, but it looks like a beer gut instead of him being pregnant. He hopes, anyway. There’s a lot of press swarming around, and they aren’t hiding the pregnancy, but Kent doesn’t want to talk to reporters tonight. Or ever, really, but especially not tonight. He resists the urge to touch it, and focuses on the ice. 

They’re early enough that the players are still warming up. Kent chats with Swoops while Bitty Snapchats. And then Jack skates past them, and Kent falls silent, Bitty lowers his phone. Bitty grabs Kent’s hand and squeezes, before they resume conversation. Neither of them notice Jack looking back at them. 

There’s a small lull as the players go back to their benches, but then the starting lineups come out, and the anthem plays. Jack’s facing off against Snickers, the new captain of the Aces, one of the rookies Kent billeted. Kent yells himself hoarse as the puck drops, and the Aces take possession. 

Kent keeps his eyes on the Aces players during the game, but he doesn’t have to be looking at Jack to know where he is on the ice, the same spatial awareness that led to the No-Look-One-Timer working against Kent now, making him hyper aware of every time Jack ventures close to the sin bin. Kent shivers after the fifth time Jack passes by, and Bitty tsks. 

“I told you you would get cold,” Bitty scolds, digging the blanket out of their bag and wrapping it around Kent. 

“Thanks,” Kent says numbly, pulling the ends of the blanket closed around him. It’s sinking in now how much of a bad idea it was to come to the game so soon after the fight. Swoops shoots him an apologetic look, and Kent smiles back weakly. 

It’s a good game, for the Aces at least. The Falconers are unusually aggressive, and soon after Taco scores the first goal for the Aces, Tater’s in the penalty box for cross-checking. Kent waves, but Tater just flips him the bird. 

“What the fuck, Tater? Are you that mad about the goal? I don’t even play anymore,” Kent shouts, confused. 

“Why would I be mad about that?” Tater asks. “No, you hurt Zimmboni. I’m not friends with assholes, even if they make best pies.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kent yells, even more confused.

But Taco scores again on the power play, and Tater’s hopping back onto the ice, zipping away before Kent can get answers. 

“We hurt Zimms?” Kent scoffs, turning back to Swoops and Bitty. “I don’t-- Jack’s the one who ended things.” 

“Yeah, that’s weird,” Bitty agrees, brows turning down in confusion. 

“This is un-fucking-believable,” Kent fumes. “After everything he said about us, he’s hurt? What the fuck, Bitty.” 

“The nerve of that man,” Bitty says, steadily getting angrier. 

“That sucks, man,” Swoops says sympathetically, patting Kent on the back. 

“We should give him a piece of our mind,” Bitty proposes suddenly. 

“Well, I don’t know if it’s that bad,” Swoops inserts awkwardly, but Kent’s already nodding along with Bitty. 

“Yeah, we should find him during the intermission,” Kent suggests. 

“Guys, as much as I want the Aces to win, maybe you shouldn’t corner the Falconers’ top scorer during the break and shout at him. The press might have something to say about that,” Swoops point out. 

“Fuck, that’s a good point,” Kent admits. 

“I do have those sometimes,” Swoops says teasingly. 

“You’re a good friend,” Kent says, leaning his head on Swoop’s shoulder. 

“Eh, debatable. A good friend probably wouldn’t have forced you to come tonight,” Swoops says. 

“Well, now we get to shout at Jack like I’ve wanted to for months, so I should be thanking you for the opportunity, Jeff,” Bitty says. 

“I also accept pies in lieu of spoken gratitude,” Swoops replies. 

“I have one in the car,” Bitty says. 

“It’s too bad Kent already married you, because otherwise I’d propose right here,” Swoops jokes. 

“Back off, he’s mine, Swoops,” Kent says, raising his head and wrapping his arms around Bitty. 

Bitty makes the call me gesture with his hand at Swoops, and Kents laughs. 

“Okay, I’m officially glad you forced us to come,” Kent confesses. “Even with the boy drama. I’ve missed hanging out with you.” 

“I’m going to check out concessions,” Bitty cuts in. 

“What happened to all the food in your bag?” Kent chirps, smiling. 

“I’m trying to give you some space, sue me for being considerate, Mr. Parson!” Bitty retorts as he stands. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” 

And with that, Bitty walks off, leaving Kent and Swoops in relative silence. They look at each other, before turning back to the game, where Taco scores again, cinching a hatty. Kent and Swoops whoop. Jack passes by just as Kent throws his favorite snapback onto the ice, and so Kent looks away and catches sight of Bitty walking back with nachos. Jack catches the hat before it hits the ice, unnoticed by any of the three. 

The Aces win the game, and Kent’s cheered himself hoarse by the end of the game. 

“We should go say hello to the boys,” Swoops says, clapping Kent on the back. 

“I’d appreciate it if you were a bit more gentler with my husband,” Bitty drawls, smiling. 

“Oh shit, right, I forgot,” Swoops says, looking down at Kent’s small bump. 

“You’re fine, Swoops,” Kent reassures, before looking at Bitty. “I’m not made of glass, Bitty, stop coddling me.” 

“As long as I can still spoil you,” Bitty bargains, standing up and taking the blanket from Kent. 

“I will divorce you in a heartbeat if you stop spoiling me,” Kent chirps. 

Bitty just chuckles before swinging the bag over his shoulder. They walk out. 

“I think the visitors’ locker room is this way,” Swoops says, turning right. 

Kent and Bitty just shrug. They’ve been at the rink before, but it’s been long enough that they forgot. Kent’s just following them when he recognizes the bathroom and stops. 

“Guys, this isn’t--,” he starts, but stops talking abruptly when Jack rounds the corner in front of them. 

Kent stops breathing when he and Jack make eye contact, and he reaches for Bitty’s hand, who offers it to Kent immediately. Jack’s wearing a hat instead of his bucket, and Kent can see how his blue eyes widen at the sight of them. 

“Aces are the other direction,” Jack grunts out before turning on his heel and leaving. 

Kent wants to scream at him, to talk about what Tater said, wants to follow Jack into the locker room and kiss his stupid face, but Swoops stops him as he takes a step forwards. 

“There’s press everywhere, you’re going to have to talk to him later,” Swoops point out, jerking his chin in the direction of a reporter with a press pass. 

“But,” Kent protests. 

“Honey, he’s right,” Bitty says quietly, squeezing Kent’s hand. 

“We’re waiting for him, then,” Kent says stubbornly, crossing his arms. 

Bitty and Swoops exchange glances. 

“You know, maybe that isn’t the best idea, Kenny,” Bitty starts. “You said he was pretty clear in his apartment, and he just lost a game.” 

“I don’t care, he got to yell at me in August, it’s my turn now,” Kent protests. 

“Man, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Swoops says. 

“He got to be angry, I get to be angry too!” Kent says, stomping his foot. 

“I know, sweetie, I’m angry too,” Bitty says. “Believe me, I’m fucking pissed. But it’s not going to change anything.” 

“It would make me feel better,” Kent grumbles. 

“Would it really make you feel better to see Jack sad?” Bitty asks. 

“Yes,” Kent insists, before the combined skepticism of Swoops and Bitty has him sighing and dropping his gaze to his shoes. He rubs his bump. “No.” 

“I know it hurts that Jack doesn’t love us back; I’m hurting too,” Bitty murmurs, pulling Kent into an embrace. “But, honey, we have to move past it. We’re having a baby.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Kent whispers, eyes watering. “I just. Want him to know.”

“I know, Kenny,” Bitty says, burying his face in Kent’s neck to hide his own tears. “I want that too.” 

Around the corner, Jack slumps against the wall and slides down it. No one’s around to see his tears.

* * *

 

Bob and Alicia Zimmerman fly in for American Thanksgiving. Jack invites Tater, Shitty, and Lardo over to celebrate the holiday together, and Jack walks into the kitchen the morning of only to see Alicia furiously peeling apples. He ignores the memories that evoke and walks in, grabbing a protein shake from the fridge. 

“Good morning, Maman,” Jack says, looking out the window so he doesn’t have to look at her hands. 

“Morning, Jacques,” Alicia says absently. “I forgot to ask, is there anything you wanted me to make? I know tourtiere isn’t traditional, but you have all the ingredients for it.” 

“Oh, no, that’s okay, let’s stick to the turkey,” Jack says hastily. “You’re visiting, you should be taking it easy. I could have catered the meal.” 

“Silly, holidays are a time for family and home-cooked meals,” Alicia chides gently. “Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve made something for you. I miss it.” 

“I miss your cooking, too,” Jack admits. 

“When was the last time someone even cooked for you?” Alicia asks.

“I cook for me!” Jack protests, trying not to think about blueberry pancakes and maple sugar. 

“Unseasoned grilled chicken doesn’t count,” Alicia chides, before letting out a little gasp of delight as she manages to peel an apple in one continuous strip. “Oh, that’s good luck!” 

“You’d think you were a hockey player,” Jack teases, reaching for an apple and a peeler only to have his hands smacked away by the apple Alicia’s holding. 

“Jack, relax, if I want help, I will tell you,” Alicia says strictly. “I wouldn’t mind company, though.” 

Jack sits on one of the stools by the counter and leans his chin into his hands as he watches her prepare the apples. The kitchen is dirty, for the first time in a while, and the heat from the oven has Jack feeling cozy for the first time in a while. He catches sight of a streak of flour on Alicia’s cheek and reaches a hand up to wipe it away reflexively, before redirecting and offering her a towel, gesturing as his own cheek as guidance. She smiles at him gratefully and wipes the flour away. 

The sound of her peeling the apples slowly fades to the background. Jack can’t remember the last time he let himself do nothing like he is now, and he realizes why now: he’s always preferred distraction as a coping mechanism, and now there’s nothing to distract him from how big the kitchen feels despite Alicia’s presence. He’s missed having people in his space, but he didn’t realize until now how much he’s also missed his family. He’s been lonelier than he thought. Alicia’s voice jerks him from his thoughts. 

“Oh, there’s someone you should meet, he works in the Foundation,” she says blithely, picking up another apple.

“Maman, you can’t set me up with one of your employees,” Jacks says, exasperated.

“Oh, of course, you’re right. I just worry about you, Jack, all alone in this big apartment,” Alicia says. 

“I just woke up Maman!” Jack protests. “Can’t we talk about my love life some other time?” 

“Oh, your love life?” Bob says as he walks into the kitchen. “Is there something you are keeping from your parents?” 

“No, nothing’s happening now,” Jack mutters. 

Alicia finishes peeling the apples and starts cutting them, the steady chop of the knife comforting. 

“Now? Was something happening?” she asks shrewdly. 

“I-- we weren’t dating,” Jack stammers. 

“Puck bunnies,” Bob says knowingly to Alicia, who giggles. 

“No!” Jack exclaims. “No, it was casual. Or that’s what I thought.” 

“Oh Jack,” Alicia says, putting her knife down. “Tell us.” 

Jack, horrifyingly, can feel a lump grow in his throat. “I was-- you know how Kent and Bitty were here for a while.” 

“That must have made things hard,” Bob nods, before Alicia elbows him sharply in the ribs. 

“Don’t interrupt him,” she hisses. 

“Well, it actually made things easier,” Jack hedges, avoiding eye contact. 

“Jack, you’re not saying--,” Alicia starts, and Jack nods miserably. 

“Wait, what is he saying?” Bob says, looking between Alicia and Jack. “What’s going on?” 

“Honey,” Alicia says firmly. “Talk to us.” 

“I-- when they got here, Kenny kissed me,” Jack says, swallowing roughly. “And then Bitty did, and then they asked me if I wanted them.” 

“Calisse,” Bob swears. 

“And I told them I would have to think about it, and then when I got back from practice one day, they were in my bed, and I said yes,” Jack says quickly, trying not to let his voice shake. 

“That was cruel of them,” Alicia says, pursing her lips. 

“I-- I didn’t care, though,” Jack protests. “I said yes, I wanted whatever they would give me.” 

“Jack, if you were that lonely, we could have-- done something,” Alicia tries. 

“I wasn’t lonely with them,” Jack says simply, omitting all the moments where he did, when he wanted Bitty to call him sweetpea or for Kent to say I love you. “I’m an adult, I’m allowed to make my own decisions about things.” 

“Of course you are, honey,” Alicia soothes. “But, we worry.”

“I know,” Jack acknowledges before continuing. “But-- I thought it would end. I thought it was just physical.” 

“Tabernak,” Bob says. 

“And then when Kent, uh, when I found out Kent was pregnant, I thought that was the end,” Jack mumbles, looking down at his feet. 

“Kent’s pregnant?” Alicia yells, before Jack hushes her urgently. She lowers her voice. “Is it yours?” 

“I, uh, I don’t know?” Jack says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Wait. Why are they not here, Jack? What did they say to you?” Alicia demands, walking over to Jack. 

“Maman, please don’t blame them,” Jack begs, finally looking at her, eyes tearing up. 

“Why not, Jack?” Bob booms. “They hurt you.” 

“It’s my fault,” Jack says, bowing his head. “It’s all my fault.” 

“You said something to them,” Alicia realizes. She grabs Jack’s shoulder. “Jack, what did you say?” 

“I thought-- I thought it was casual,” Jack stammers. “And when I found out, I thought that it would be better to end things sooner rather than later.” 

“What did you say, son?” Bob asks gently. “Let us help.” 

“I told Kent that it was just physical,” Jack says, crying in earnest. “I said we both knew it wasn’t going to last. That I didn’t care about the baby, that it probably wasn’t mine.” 

“Oh Jack,” Alicia says, eyes tearing up. She hugs him tightly. “Jack. Why didn’t you talk to them? You should have told them how much you love them.” 

“I didn’t think they loved me back, Maman,” Jack says, voice shaking, tears dropping onto her hair. “I thought it would be easier this way.” 

“What changed?” Alicia asks, pulling away from Jack. 

“What?” Jack says, brows furrowing. 

“You said you didn’t think they loved you back,” Alicia points out. “So now you think that they do. Why?” 

“I--they came to the Aces game,” Jack says, and Bob nods. “And after, I ran into them near the locker room.” 

“So you talked?” Bob says hopefully, his face falling when Jack shakes his head. 

“No, I just redirected them. But I stopped to listen to their conversation,” Jack says. 

“Oh Jack, you didn’t,” Alicia says disapprovingly. 

“Maman, they love me too, I heard them say it,” Jack says, face crumpling. “They love me, and I ruined everything.” 

Alicia just hugs him again, mind racing as she tries to figure out what to say. Jack just shakes in her arms. Finally, he pulls away, wiping his hands

“Sorry, Maman, I should--,” Jack starts. 

“Non, no sorry,” she cuts in firmly. “Jack, you listen to me now. You have to talk to them.” 

Bob makes a skeptical noise, and Jack looks at her, bewildered. 

“But, I can’t, I just told you--,” he starts again. 

“No, Jack, you have to talk to them. You love them and they love you. You owe them a conversation, some closure,” Alicia says firmly. 

“I don’t think they want to see me,” Jack says meekly. 

“Fuck that,” she says, surprising a laugh out of Jack and Bob. “You go to them, you apologize, you ask them to hear you out, and if they say no, they say no. But you should try, Jack.” 

“I don’t know what I’ll do if they say no,” Jack confesses. 

“I’ll come with you,” Alicia says. “If they say no, we will go to a diner and get waffles, like we used to when you lost a game.” 

“Maman, that’s not what I meant,” Jack protests half-heartedly. 

“Ali, you have to know that’s not the same thing,” Bob puts in. 

“Did they make you happy?” Alicia asks. 

“Yeah,” Jack says lowly, before looking up at her and smiling as he remembers. “Yeah, they did.” 

“Love isn’t easy, Jack,” Alicia tells him. “Anyone, you will have to talk to, in order to have a good relationship. There will always be the risk of rejection. Are they worth it?” 

Jack looks at her wordlessly. 

“No matter what happens, Jack, we will be here for you,” Alicia continues. “But do you really want to live the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you had tried?” 

“No,” Jack admits shamefully. “No, I don’t want to always wonder.” 

“Are they worth the risk?” Alicia asks again. 

“Yes,” Jack answers. “Yes, I will go and I will apologize.” 

“Come here,” Alicia says, hugging him again. “I am proud of you for telling us.” 

“You can tell us anything,” Bob chimes in. 

Alicia rolls her eyes at him, but Bob just winks at her, and she smiles besides herself. Jack pulls away. 

“Thanks, Maman,” Jack says, sniffing once before giving her a small smile. “You’re the best.” 

“And don’t you forget!” she admonishes. “Now, shoo, I have to finish cooking. Wake your friends up, talk to them.” 

* * *

“Fuck,” Kent says. 

Bitty sticks his head out of the bathroom. “Did you want something?” 

Kent drops his head back and groans. “These pants don’t fit anymore.” 

Bitty walks out completely from the bathroom, still holding his toothbrush. “But, those are at least two sizes too big for you normally.” 

“Bittle, if you call me fat I swear to god I’ll throw a dildo at you,” Kent growls, stepping out of his pants. 

“No, no,” Bitty says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying, it’s a little strange, sweetpea, the doctor said that you’d probably be barely showing at this stage.” 

“I know, I don’t get it either!” Kent exclaims. “But we have to go buy new pants, because God knows yours won’t fit me either.” 

“Mhmm,” Bitty hums, ducking back into the bathroom. Kent can hear the water running, and then it shuts off, followed by Bitty reappearing in the bedroom. “Do you want to go shopping for them today?” 

“I didn’t want to leave the house today,” Kent whines. “My hair’s greasy, but I don’t want to shower, and the only things that’ll fit me are sweatpants.” 

“Aww,” Bitty commiserates, walking over and hugging Kent. “We could order some pants online.” 

Kent brightens up, pulling away from the embrace and sitting on the bed in front of Bitty. “Oh, you’re right! Genius idea, Bits.” 

“I try,” Bitty says dryly. 

“Well, I think you do more than just try,” Kent says suggestively, trailing a hand across Bitty’s shoulder, down his arm until Kent’s squeezing his bicep. “Have you been working out?”

“Kent Parson, has that line ever worked on anyone?” Bitty wonders. 

“You tell me,” Kent says, smiling up at Bitty. “Is it working?” 

“You don’t have to try this hard,” Bitty purrs, wrapping his arms around Kent’s shoulders. “You could just show up naked in our bed, and I’d be raring to go in two point five seconds.” 

“Like a luxury sports car that middle-aged Alphas buy to compensate for their small dicks,” Kent nods sagely. 

Bitty pulls away from Kent, swatting his shoulder. “Way to ruin the mood, honey!” 

“No, wait, it was the perfect opening,” Kent protests as Bitty walks back to the bathroom. “Come back and fuck me, please?” 

Bitty turns around and pushes Kent onto his back on the bed, straddling Kent’s hips. “Well, who am I to refuse you when you ask so nice?” 

“Yes, please,” Kent begs, rocking his hips up. 

“Nuh-uh,” Bitty tsks, pushing down on Kent’s hips. “Just be still for me, okay? Can you be a good boy for your Daddy?” 

“Yes, yes, I can,” Kent says, nodding fervently. “Please, just touch me.” 

Bitty pauses in taking Kent’s shirt off. “Sweetpea, do you just want me to touch you? Because we can cuddle and not have sex.” 

“Bitty, if you don’t get your cock in my cunt in the next few minutes, I am going to make you regret it,” Kent threatens. 

Bitty blinks, before getting back into the scene. “That didn’t sound very nice, kitten. Do you want to try again?” 

Kent looks away demuring, eyelashes fanning across his cheek. “I’m sorry, Daddy, I just really need your cock in my hole, please.” 

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Bitty chirps. “See how easy it is to be good?” 

“You make it easy, Daddy,” Kent says fervently. “Please fuck me.”

“Just be a little patient, baby, I want to enjoy you first,” Bitty says fondly. 

Bitty finishes taking off Kent’s shirt and starts kissing his way down Kent’s neck, sucking a dark mark where Kent’s neck meets his shoulder, before continuing down, to Kent’s chest. 

“Huh, have these gotten bigger?” Bitty muses, flicking one dark, pebbled nipple. 

Kent gasps. “And-and more sensitive, Daddy.” 

“I wonder if I could make you come from just playing with your tits,” Bitty says, bringing up his hands to cup the barely there mounds. “These have definitely gotten bigger.” 

“Yeah-yeah,” Kent manages. “For-for the baby.” 

Bitty moves his hand down, to the curve of Kent’s belly, and caresses it for a moment. Kent closes his eyes, but arches into the touch. 

“This baby?” Bitty purrs. “The baby I fucked into you?” 

“Yes, yes,” Kent says. “Please, Daddy, I need your cock.” 

Bitty absently pats Kent’s cheek with one hand before tugging off Kent’s boxers. 

“Oh look at you, dripping for me,” Bitty drawls, tracing a finger on Kent’s cuntlips, dark and wet. 

“Yes, please, put it in me,” Kent demands, canting his hips in an attempt to push Bitty’s finger into him. 

“Aw, sweet boy, I get to decide what you get,” Bitty says disapprovingly. “Be patient for me, okay? Put your arms over your head.” 

“It’s so hard,” Kent whines, moving his arms. 

“I know you can do it,” Bitty soothes, rubbing his hands up the side of Kent’s torso. “What’s your color, baby?” 

“Green,” Kent says immediately. “Just do something, please.” 

“I think I’m going to make you come on my tongue first,” Bitty muses, before touching one of Kent’s nipples again. “And then I’m going to see if I can make you come from me just touching these perfect tits.” 

“What, what about your cock, Daddy?” Kent gasps as Bitty moves in between Kent’s legs and spreads them further apart. 

“If you’re a good boy, I’ll give you my cock,” Bitty promises, before ducking down and pressing a kiss to Kent’s inner thigh. 

Kent is reduced to whimpers and pants as Bitty slowly, achingly uses his tongue to open up Kent. And then Bitty moves to suck on Kent’s dick, and Kent has to fight to keep still, to keep himself from grabbing Bitty’s hair and try to get more of the delicious pressure on his dick. Only a few more minutes of sucking have Kent clenching his thighs around Bitty’s head as he orgasms. 

Bitty pulls away slowly from Kent, leaving one last kiss to Kent’s thigh before moving further up and kissing Kent. Kent moans into the kiss, tasting himself on Bitty’s tongue, and feels himself leaking more slick, his cock futilely trying to get harder already. 

“What a good boy,” Bitty praises, before pulling back to appraise the mess on Kent’s chest. “Oh, but look at the mess you’ve made. I guess I’ll have to clean it up for you.” 

And then Bitty starts licking Kent’s come off his belly, each swipe of his tongue on Kent’s post-orgasm sensitive skin adding to his arousal and making it harder to resist rubbing his thighs together for any kind of friction. 

“So good,” Bitty says again. “Look at you, keeping still for your Alpha.” 

“Being so good, just for you, Daddy,” Kent gasps. 

Bitty smiles wickedly before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Kent’s nipple, sucking and nipping at it until Kent’s crying from the overstimulation. Bitty pulls away, looking at Kent’s face. 

“Color?” he checks in. 

“Green,” Kent says breathlessly. 

“Good boy,” Bitty praises, before moving to the other nipple and subjecting it to the same treatment. Kent comes with a loud scream when Bitty bites down on his nipple, panting as Bitty continues to worry at the peak. 

“No, stop, too sensitive,” Kent slurs, pushing at Bitty’s head weakly. 

“That’s not your safeword,” Bitty says, raising an eyebrow, but moves off Kent’s chest anyway, sliding two fingers into Kent’s cunt as he does. Kent gasps and bears down on the fingers, trying to pull them in deeper. 

“You’re so loose for me already,” Bitty marvels, crooking his fingers until he hits a spot that has Kent arching his back. “And so easy for it, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, please,” Kent breathes out. “Just give me your cock, I’m ready.” 

“Any other time, I’d spank you for rushing me,” Bitty reflects, withdrawing his fingers and ignoring Kent’s whine. “But you’ve been so good, so patient for me, haven’t you? I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.” 

Kent opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a long whine as Bitty slides into Kent’s pussy in one sharp thrust, not giving Kent any time to adjust. Kent squeezes his eyes shut at the perfect burn of it, trying not to rock his hips into Bitty’s steady thrusts. Bitty doesn’t last before he’s coming, knot locking them together, Bitty collapsing onto Kent’s chest. Bitty reaches down and stokes Kent’s dick roughly until Kent’s coming for the third time, dry, walls clenching down, milking the come out of Bitty’s dick. 

“Oh, that was good,” Bitty manages minutes later, and Kent just nods. 

“We should do that more often,” Kent says when he finds his voice. 

“Oh yeah,” Bitty agrees, absently cupping Kent’s breast. “Do you think they’ll get bigger?” 

“I don’t know, you tell me, you’ve been reading all the pamphlets,” Kent chirps, biting his lip at Bitty rubs a thumb over Kent’s nipple. 

“There are some things they don’t put in pamphlets,” Bitty points out, sweeping his thumb back and forth on Kent’s nipple and enjoying how Kent shifts around his knot with every pass. 

“Yeah, uh, they should get bigger, especially when my milk comes in,” Kent admits. “I don’t know how big, but probably enough for a small bra.” 

“There are those cookies that they make for lactating Omegas, right?” Bitty says absently, taking his hand off Kent. “Will they make your milk come in earlier?” 

“I don’t know, why?” Kent asks, smiling as Bitty blushes and doesn’t answer. “Do you like the idea of that, my tits engorged with milk for our baby?” 

“Yes,” Bitty admits quickly, too quickly. 

“That’s not it,” Kent says. “Not exactly anyway.” 

“I just like the idea of you with breasts!” Bitty insists. 

“Oh, I know,” Kent says. “I know just how much you like the idea. But I think it’s more than that.” 

Bitty doesn’t answer. 

“You want to nurse from me,” Kent realizes. “You want to suck at them until they’re leaking milk.” 

“I couldn’t, you’d be making the milk for our baby,” Bitty protests. 

“Well, if you make those cookies you were talking about, there should be plenty to go around,” Kent suggests. 

“Lord, why do you make everything sound so filthy?” Bitty says. 

“Bitty, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Kent says gently. 

“I don’t know,” Bitty says uncertainly. 

“Do you know how good it makes me feel, knowing you want every part of me?” Kent asks. “Do you believe me when I say I want every part of you?” 

“I believe you,” Bitty replies. “It makes you feel good?” 

“I’m not exactly enthused about having to wear a bra out of the house, they’re modern torture devices,” Kent says dryly. “But I’ll live with it for our kid. I’ll enjoy them if you enjoy them.” 

“I’ll definitely enjoy them,” Bitty says furtively.

“I’ve also heard that milk production increases with demand,” Kent says casually. “So it might be good if you start nursing when my milk comes in, make sure our baby doesn’t starve.” 

“Right, it’s all for our baby,” Bitty murmurs, before latching onto Kent’s nipple and sucking furiously. Kent arches his back and grabs Bitty’s hair. 

“Right,” Kent gasps out. “Puck’ll be, be the kid of hockey players, they’re going to be hungry.” 

Bitty stops sucking, sitting up to look at Kent, knot pulling at Kent as he moves. 

“Puck might not be mine,” Bitty says bluntly. 

“Wow, this is definitely more of a boner-killer than the thing with the sport cars,” Kent deflects. 

“I know this is a bad time--.” 

“It’s the worst time, babe.” 

“But they might not be mine,” Bitty continues. “We’ve been avoiding this conversation.” 

“So you decide to talk about it now, when I literally can’t run away,” Kent snarks. 

“I’m sorry, you just said that they’ll be the kid of hockey players, and I know you meant me, but it could be Jack’s,” Bitty says. 

Kent closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Jack said he didn’t care.”

“What?” Bitty asks, shocked. 

“That fight, I brought up the baby, he said that he didn’t care, that it probably wasn’t his,” Kent mumbles. 

Bitty’s knot goes down, and he carefully pulls out of Kent, rearranging them so he’s spooning Kent. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bitty asks carefully. 

“Does it matter?” Kent says wearily. “I thought it was pretty clear Jack didn’t care. I didn’t think you’d care either.” 

“Honey, of course not, I love Puck already,” Bitty exclaims. “But don’t you think that we should maybe-- I don’t know, it just feels weird.” 

“Yellow,” Kent says flatly, twisting out of Bitty’s embrace and getting out of bed. “I know you weren’t there, Bitty, but I’m done talking about Jack right now.” 

“Okay,” Bitty says, sitting up. “Thank you for telling me. Are you mad at me?” 

Kent sighs and bends over to put his boxers back on. 

“No, I just, I need some space for a bit, okay?” Kent says. “I don’t even know why this is so hard, but it is, and I just need to go and think about something else.” 

“All right,” Bitty says softly, sinking back into the bed. 

* * *

“So, uh, I haven’t told you everything that’s been happening in my life,” Jack starts his next therapy session with, wringing his arms. 

His therapist looks at Jack over their glasses, raising their eyebrow. Jack fidgets for a moment, taking his deep breath. 

“I was, well, I told you about how my friends were staying over while their house was undergoing renovations,” Jack starts, rubbing his palms on his legs. 

“Kent and Bitty,” Marina supplies. 

“Yes, them. Uh, well, so they, seduced me?” Jack says. Marina just nods, gives him a moment to put his thoughts in order. “And uh, so we started a-- a physical relationship, and I was fine with it, or that’s what I told myself, and then Kent got pregnant.” 

Marina nods, looking down at their notepad before looking back at him. They don’t force eye contact, with Jack appreciates. 

“So what happened next?” they ask. 

“Well, uh, the next day, Kent tried to talk to me, and I, uh, broke up with them?” Jack says uncertainly, scrunching his nose. “I don’t know the right word for it, I don’t think we were dating. Or I didn’t think we were dating, rather.” 

“Why do you say that, you didn’t think?” Marina asks, putting their glasses on the top of their head and leaning back in their chair. 

“I thought it was casual for them, because they had been with each other for so much longer, and I tried to be fine with that, but it wasn’t. And then with the baby, I-- I didn’t want to be Uncle Jack, you know?” Jack stammers. 

“So what do you want to be?” Marina pushes. 

“I want to be their boyfriend. I-- I want to be, like, a third parent to the kid,” Jack says firmly.

“And why didn’t you tell them that?” 

“I was afraid,” Jack admits. “I didn’t think they loved me back, and I didn’t want to hear them say no.” 

“So what changed?” Marina says, leaning forward a bit. 

“Sorry?” Jack asks, confused. 

“You said you didn’t think they loved you back,” Marina recalls. “So now you do think that they might?” 

“I didn’t think they loved me back,” Jack admits. “But they were at a game a couple of weeks ago, and I overheard a conversation, and they said they loved me.” 

Marina leans back again, setting the notepad down and placing their hands in their lap. 

“So how does that make you feel?” they ask gently. 

“Uh, I--I feel like I ruined everything. I told my mother and she said I should apologize, but I-- I don’t know how to do that, without making everything worse,” Jack says. 

“It’s good you’re identifying how you feel about this, and I’m glad you came to me about this,” Marina says mildly. “Would it be helpful for you if we went over different scenarios?” 

“Yes, that would be great,” Jack nods, sighing in relief. 

He may have fucked everything up, but he’s going to try his best to fix it. 

* * *

“Oh, look at you, do you know what you’re having yet?” the nurse asks as she ushers them into the examination room. 

Kent hoists himself onto the chair, leaving Bitty to answer the question as the nurse begins to take Kent’s vitals. “We wanted to keep it a surprise.” 

“Oh, those can be fun,” the nurse exclaims, putting the blood pressure cuff on Kent’s arm. 

“We don’t really have a preference, and we’re painting the nursery yellow either way, so it doesn’t really matter,” Kent explains. 

“That’s nice. Now, don’t get too comfy there, I’m going to need you to give me a urine sample,” the nurse-- her nametag says Audrey-- says, handing Kent a sample jar. 

“Ugh, okay,” Kent says, hoisting himself out of the chair. 

After Kent finishes with that and is pulled aside to get his weight taken, he finally relaxes into the chair, closing his eyes. 

“Tired, already?” Bitty chirps. 

“You try growing a baby and see how much energy you have,” Kent growls. He can hear Bitty’s footsteps moving closer, and then Bitty’s carefully touching Kent’s stomach. 

“You’re showing a lot more than I expected,” Bitty murmurs, caressing Kent’s bump. 

“You better not be calling me fat,” Kent grumbles. 

“No, it’s mostly in your stomach,” Bitty reassures. “Seems like the baby might be big. I thought your abs would have you showing later.” 

“Now you’re saying I slacked on my workouts, which I did not,” Kent grouses. 

“No, hon, that’s not what I’m saying,” Bitty rushes to reassure, but he doesn’t finish his thought before Dr. Jones comes in, flipping through her clipboard before looking up and smiling at them. She blinks at Kent’s stomach and looks back at her notes. 

“Well, you look further along than I expected,” Dr. Jones comments. 

“So it’s not just me,” Bitty says triumphantly. 

“Looks like you might have a big baby on your hands, gents,” Dr. Jones continues. “You’ve put on more weight than I expected, Kent.” 

“Why is it pick on Kent day?” Kent complains to the ceiling. 

“No, it’s good, you were on the skinny side before the pregnancy,” Dr. Jones reassures. “You just put it on faster than I was expecting, considering your history. Do we want to take a look at the baby today?” 

“Yes, please,” Kent says, annoyance replaced by anticipation. 

Dr. Jones winks at Bitty, smiling. “Normally there are other questions I’d go through, but I find expectant parents are more likely to answer them after seeing the baby. I’ll just grab the machine, and we’ll get you set up in here, okay?” 

Kent reaches for Bitty’s hand and squeezes tightly, excited. Dr. Jones re-enters, wheeling the machine behind her.

“Just give me a moment to get it set up,” Dr. Jones says. After a couple of minutes, she turns back to them, grabbing a tube from the machine’s cart. “This gel might be cold.” 

She waits for Kent to lift up his shirt before she squeezes the gel onto Kent’s belly. Kent doesn’t shiver until she starts spreading the gel with the transducer. 

“Oh, that’s a strong heartbeat,” Dr. Jones says approvingly as the room fills with the whooshing sound. “Oh, just as I thought, that’s a very big baby, Kent.” 

“Huh,” Kent says, looking at Bitty. “Kind of surprising.” 

“Kent Parson, stop chirping me,” Bitty scolds. “Besides, Mama always said I was a big baby.” 

“Hmm,” Dr. Jones says, brows furrowing in thought. 

“What’s wrong?” Kent says, panic gripping his heart. 

“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong,” Dr. Jones says. “I don’t think there is, it’s just the heartbeat sounds a little off. Do you have any heart conditions, Kent? Can’t check my clipboard, but that might be it.” 

“No, I was a hockey player, I’ve never had issues with my heart,” Kent panics. “Dr. Jones, is there something wrong with the baby?” 

“No, please calm down, it’s not good to stress,” Dr. Jones says levely. “You’re twenty weeks along, correct?” 

“Yes,” Kent answers, looking at Bitty helplessly. Bitty looks just as worried as Kent feels. 

“Do multiples run in your family?” Dr. Jones asks, moving the transducer around. 

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” Kent says, confused. “I’m the only male omega on either side for a while, though, does that affect anything?”

Dr. Jones picks up her glasses from where they’ve been hanging against her chest and puts them on, peering closer to the sonogram. 

“I think you’re having twins,” Dr. Jones announces after Kent’s cycled through fifteen different worst-case scenarios. 

“Twins?” Bitty breathes, while Kent is rendered speechless. 

“Just to be sure, we’ll do another ultrasound in half an hour, after you’ve filled your bladder some more,” Dr. Jones says. “But it would explain why you’re so big; this is your first pregnancy and considering your core strength before the pregnancy, I was expecting you wouldn’t start showing in earnest for another two, maybe even three weeks.” 

“But everything’s okay?” Kent asks again, heart in his throat. 

“I see that we’ve already done tests for genetic and congenital diseases because of your status as elderly primagravida,” Dr. Jones continues. “Results indicate the fetus-- or rather, the potential fetuses, are healthy and everything is progressing as it should. 

“Okay,” Kent breathes out. 

“There is no cause for alarm, I’m very certain you’re having twins, but I think one is covering the smaller one. The heartbeats basically confirm it, but I’d like to get some preliminary measurements on the second twin,” Dr. Jones says reassuringly. 

“Okay, yeah, I’ll drink some water then,” Kent says, nodding. 

“I’ll be back in half an hour,” Dr. Jones promises before leaving the room. 

Half an hour later, when  Kent’s squirming in the chair after chugging nearly twenty ounces of water from Bitty’s water bottle, Dr. Jones walks in and starts the machine up again, barely warning Kent before she’s slathering him in the gel. 

“Oh, there they are,” Dr. Jones says. “Gentlemen, come look at your babies.” 

Kent and Bitty look at the sonogram, and Dr. Jones points out the two little bodies. They stare, drinking in their fill, before Bitty turns to Kent and captures his lips in a passionate kiss. When they pull away, they turn to Dr. Jones, who’s intently studying the sonogram. 

“So this twin is so much bigger than the other one, but they’re fraternal, I can see they have distinct placentae, so the size disparity is a little unusual,” Dr. Jones muses. 

“Are they okay?” Kent worries. 

“Oh, yes, the smaller one is well within average measurements for a twin at this stage of development, it’s this larger one that’s in the 95th percentile for a singleton,” Dr. Jones says slowly, before her face clears. “I’m going to have to ask your husband to step out for a second.” 

“Why, is everything okay?” Bitty frets. 

“They’re both as fit as can be, this is just protocol,” Dr. Jones reassures, standing up to guide Bitty out of the room before sitting on the stool by the machine again. 

“I didn’t want to ask in front of your husband even though he seems sweet,” Dr. Jones explains. “It’s a bit of a sensitive matter, but I’m just going to cut to the chase-- did you have multiple partners during your last heat?” 

Kent blushes, ducking his head down to avoid looking at her. “Uh yeah, why? Oh, uh, we can bring my husband back in, he knows.” 

“Okay, good, I just wanted to be safe,” Dr. Jones says. “I’ll just grab him for you.” 

Bitty walks in warily, switching his gaze between Kent and Dr. Jones. 

“I was just asking your husband if he had multiple partners during his last heat, and he reassured me that you were fine with it,” Dr. Jones says. “I was asking because I think what we’re seeing here is superfecundation.” 

“Super feces what?” Kent exclaims. 

“Superfecundation, it’s--well, I can’t say anything with a hundred percent certainty without a DNA test or, I guess, seeing the babies, but I think the fetuses have a different father. It’s actually pretty common in male omegas who have multiple partners during their heat; it’s just uncommon for male omegas to have multiple partners,” Dr. Jones explains. 

“Oh,” Kent realizes. “That would explain why one is so much bigger.” 

“Yes, quite; I’m guessing from your reaction that the other partner is bigger than you?” Dr. Jones prods. 

“Uh, yeah, he’s an athlete too,” Kent replies absently. 

“The different fathers would explain the disparities in the sizes we’re seeing here. If you wanted to be certain, we could do a DNA test at this stage,” Dr. Jones offers. 

“Is that the one where you poke me with a gigantic needle?” Kent asks, making a face. 

“Well, there’s that one, or we could compare against a blood sample. The second option is more likely to give false negatives, but it’s unlikely to return a false positive,” Dr. Jones explains. 

“We’ll think about it,” Kent says, his tone doubtful. “It doesn’t matter either way, right Bits?” 

Bitty smiles down at him, squeezing Kent’s hand. “Yeah, honey.” 

“While I commend that line of thinking,” Dr. Jones interrupts. “It might be nice to have the other partner’s health history, along with their family health history, for the sake of your child’s health.” 

Kent groans, and Bitty rubs his arm reassuringly. “We’ll figure something out, Dr. Jones, thank you.” 

“All right, then. I’ll go over some more things with you, and then you’ll be free to go,” Dr. Jones says. “Before I turn off the machine, would you like a copy of the sonogram?” 

“Yes please,” Kent nods, while Bitty says, “We’ll need at least five copies.” 

* * *

“We should go see your mom and tell her the good news, Kent!” Bitty says once they’re back in the car after the appointment. 

“Oh shit,” Kent realizes, looking back down at the sonogram in his lap as Bitty starts the ignition. 

“What?” Bitty asks, looking over his shoulder as he reverses out of the lot. 

“We’re going to have to tell her about Jack,” Kent points out. 

“I thought you already told her about Jack, honey, we were together for a while,” Bitty says, turning back and changing gears. 

“Well, Jack and I don’t have the best track record, and I kind of...wanted to drop the pregnancy news along with the whole ‘My fiance and I are dating my ex who ghosted me,’ to soften the blow,” Kent says sheepishly. 

“Probably for the best, but that puts us in an awkward position now,” Bitty muses. 

“Maybe we just wait and see if the kid looks like Jack,” Kent suggests hopefully. “Maybe they won’t! And then we won’t have to tell anyone anything.” 

“Well, now that you’ve said that, the kid’s definitely going to look like Jack,” Bitty says wryly. “We can hold off on telling your mother, but we’ll have to talk to Jack eventually-- Dr. Jones has a point about health history, not to mention it could be good to ask his parents about raising a child with genetic predisposition towards anxiety and what they wish they’d done differently.” 

“I’ve heard too many silver-dollar words today,” Kent complains. “Can we dispense with that shit already?” 

“Ooh, look at you using the word dispense,” Bitty gasps. “But okay, yes, I’ll try not to use so many syllables. Lord, I have to admit it’s strange for me to hear ‘genetic predisposition’ come out of my mouth outside of Bio 101.” 

“So we’re going to have to buy twice as much as we expected,” Kent says. “Oops, total subject change.” 

“You’re fine, you have a point. We’re going to need two of everything, that’s so strange to think!” Bitty exclaims. 

“I guess it’s a good thing we haven’t had a baby shower yet,” Kent muses. “God, we’re going to change so many diapers.” 

“About that, I was thinking that we could use cloth diapers?” Bitty puts in. “Much more eco-friendly.” 

“Only if you change them every time,” Kent agrees. “I know I’d have to deal with their shit-- ha, literally-- even with disposable diapers, but something about cloth diapers has me cringing.” 

“So table the discussion for later, got it,” Bitty nods. “You know, we don’t really have anything else to do today, you should text your mom, see if she’s free for a visit.” 

“Ugh, I guess it would be polite to ask her first,” Kent complains, before shifting to grab his phone from his pocket and texting quickly. “Wow, she’s already typing back-- okay, so she’s free.” 

“Do we need anything from the grocery store?” Bitty wonders as they stop at a red light. “We could go after we see your mom.” 

“I’ve been craving orange sherbet lately,” Kent muses. 

“Whatever you want, sweetpea,” Bitty chuckles, taking a hand off the wheel to briefly squeeze Kent’s thigh. 

“Including an apple pie from McDonald’s?” Kent chirps. 

“If it’ll make you happy,” Bitty says, his smile becoming more forced. 

“Wow, that sounds like it was hard to get out,” Kent observes. 

“I’m trying, honey,” Bitty protests. 

“Yes, I know,” Kent chuckles. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry the babies have such bad taste in pie.” 

“It’s okay, everyone’s teachable,” Bitty chirps. 

“I think you mean coachable,” Kent corrects.

“I said what I said, Mr. Parson,” Bitty says. 

“Okay, okay,” Kent says. 

Five minutes later they’re pulling into Karen Parson’s driveway. Bitty kills the ignition and hops out to help Kent out of the car. 

“God, I’m going to get so big,” Kent groans as he gets out, putting a hand to the small of his back. “My back already hurts, this is going to be hell.” 

“On the bright side, you get to demand back massages from me whenever you’d like,” Bitty points out as they walk to the door. 

“As magic as your hands are,” Kent admits. “My back’s definitely going to require a chiropractor, babe.” 

The door opens, startling the two of them into silence. Isidore Parson stands there, hands on her hips, curly blonde hair tied into a messy bun. 

“Were you two ever going to ring the doorbell?” Iz demands, before taking a double take at Kent. “Wow, you’re huge, are you sure you’re only carrying one baby?”

“Nice to see you too, Iz,” Kent grumbles, walking inside and looking at his shoes before looking up at Bitty, who bends down to quickly untie Kent’s laces. Kent toes his shoes off, and Bitty does the same. 

“He’s got you whipped, huh?” Iz says to Bitty sympathetically. 

“I have the best Alpha,” Kent declares, throwing an arm around Bitty’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Mom’s in the living room, hurry up slowpoke,” Iz says, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. 

“A little sympathy wouldn’t kill ya sis,” Kent grouses as they follow her into the living room, where Karen sits drinking rose from a plastic cup and watching some show Kent doesn’t immediately recognize.  “Hey Ma.” 

“Oh, Kent!” Karen says, standing up and holding her arms out. Kent embraces her over the back of the sofa. “Wow, you’re so big, are you sure you’re only having one?” 

“That’s what I said!” Iz says, flopping down into the armchair. Kent and Bitty settle onto the lovechair across from her, exchanging a quick glance as Kent puts his hand on his stomach. 

“Well, actually,” Kent begins. 

“Are you shitting me, I was joking!” Iz interrupts. “You better not be fucking with me, I know where you sleep.” 

“You don’t scare me, you don’t have a key to my house,” Kent retorts, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at her. 

“That you know of,” Iz says, raising an eyebrow as she leans back into her chair. 

“Okay, stop the banter kids, Kent, you were saying?” Karen inserts smoothly. 

“Right, well, we’re having twins!” Kent says, making awkward jazz hands. 

“RIP Kent’s vagina,” Iz mutters as she picks up a glass from the coffee table. 

“Oh, it’ll bounce back, don’t mind her, Kent,” Karen dismisses, before turning back to Kent. “That’s great! I’m not babysitting until they sleep through the night.” 

Bitty starts laughing as Kent sputters, betrayed. “Ma! I-I-- they’re your first grandchildren!” 

“And I love them dearly already, but I remember how hellish it was with the two of you being babies at basically the same time, and I have no desire to go through that again. I’d just have finished getting you settled when Iz would start up, setting you off again,” Karen says. “No, no. I’ve served my time in baby-induced sleep deprivation hell, Kent.” 

“Really selling us on the experience here,” Bitty says, still chuckling. 

“Oh, it’ll be worth it when they do something new, like smile or roll-over or say Dada for the first time,” Karen deflects. 

“Wow, I think that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Ms. Parson,” Bitty says. 

“If you’re going to chirp me like that Eric, I’m going to insist you call me Ma, like these two knuckleheads,” Karen chuckles, gesturing to Kent and Iz who abruptly stop making increasing obscene gestures at each other. 

“Okay, Ma,” Bitty tries. 

“See! That wasn’t so hard, right?” Karen says warmly. 

“I guess not, Ma,” Bitty says, smiling back at her. 

“Let me see the scans!” Iz gasps, making grabby hands at Kent. 

“Hmm, why would I show scans of my unborn children to someone who’s been very rude to me?” Kent wonders, rubbing his chin. 

“Ma, Kent’s being mean to me,” Iz complains, half-seriously. 

“Iz, Kent, you’re both adults, figure your shit out without involving me,” Karen says. 

“Ugh,” Iz huffs, before turning back to Kent. “Dearest brother, may I please see the latest scans of your most blessed progeny?” 

“Was that so hard?” Kent says, holding out two copies to her. She sighs, but gets up to get them. “Give one of those to Ma, please.” 

Iz turns around to stick her tongue out at him, but complies before sitting back down. 

“Huh, they have big heads,” Iz observes. “Guess they take after you, Kent.” 

“I do not have a big head, thank you very much,” Kent scoffs. “I have a big--.”

“Wow, this one looks much bigger than the other, or at least I think they do,” Karen interrupts, squinting at the scan. “Iz, be a dear and get my reading glasses from my room for me?” 

“I was going to say hockey stick,” Kent protests, but shifts uncomfortably, shooting a look at Bitty, who just rubs his arm. 

“Well, uh, Ma, you’re right about the sizes, actually,” Bitty says as Iz passes by the loveseat to get the glasses. “One is much bigger than the other.” 

“That’s pretty common for twins, right?” Karen says as Iz returns with the glasses and hands them to Karne. 

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” Kent stammers. Karen doesn’t notice his uncertainty, putting on the glasses to look at the pictures again. 

“Well, at any rate, it’ll be nice to have some grandkids to stuff with sugar before handing them back to you as revenge for all those times you peed on me,” Karen says, putting the scans down. 

“In my defense, I was a baby,” Kent points out. 

“Yeah, yeah, I still maintain you were entirely cognizant of your actions,” Karen waves off. 

“What is it with everyone and their half-dollar words today?” Kent groans. 

“The doctor said the word superfecundation today, and I think he’s still traumatized,” Bitty tells Karen conspiratorially, before blanching as he remembers why the doctor used the word. 

“Super feces what?” Karen and Iz say in unison. 

“That’s what I said!” Kent exclaims, squeezing Bitty’s hand a touch too tightly. 

“But yeah, we’re going to be changing so many diapers,” Bitty says, changing the subject abruptly. Karen doesn’t notice as she starts commiserating with Kent, but Iz looks at Bitty suspiciously before picking up her phone and typing something into it. 

“Uh, can I use your bathroom?” Bitty asks Karen, interrupting her conversation with Kent about the evils of cloth diapers. 

“Bitty, stop asking me silly things, of course you can,” Karen says, before turning back to Kent. 

Bitty’s washing his hands when he hears the lock turning, and Iz barges in. 

“I locked the door!” Bitty squawks.

“Please, Kent and I have known how to unlock it from the outside since we were three,” Iz says dismissively. 

“I’m sure there are other bathrooms you could have used if you needed to use one so urgently,” Bitty points out. 

“What? No, I’m not here to use the bathroom,” Iz says. 

“Then why are you here?” Bitty wonders, before gasping dramatically. “Oh, Iz, you’re very pretty, but I’m very gay and I’m also married to your brother.” 

“What? No, gross, the entire thought of that is one big-- God. No,” Iz exclaims, scrunching her nose. 

“Obviously, I’m joking,” Bitty points out, leaning back against the sink.

“Fucking focus, Eric, I wanted to talk about what you said out there,” Iz redirects. 

“Uh, I think it’s fairly straightforward, we’re having twins,” Bitty says warily, eyeing the door. She blocks his view. 

“No, about superfecundation,” Iz says. 

“Uh, yeah?” Bitty says. “I did say that word, what about it?” 

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know one of those babies is Jack Zimmerman’s,” Iz reveals. 

“What? No,” Bitty stammers. “No, no, what makes you think that?”

Iz holds up the sonogram, pointing to the third picture. “That baby has Zimmerman’s ass, I’d recognize it anywhere, even on a grainy-ass picture.” 

“How long have you spent staring at Jack’s ass?” Bitty says, for the lack of anything better. 

“Ugh, irrelevant, I’m not talking about what interests me sexually with my brother-in-law,” Iz retorts. “Point is, neither you or Kent have an ass like that.” 

“Okay, fine, you’re right,” Bitty confesses. “Don’t tell Ma!” 

“I knew it!” Iz exclaims victoriously. “I totally made up that thing about the ass, bee-tee-dubs, I just knew it would be the easiest way to get you to crack.” 

“Iz! I thought we were friends,” Bitty squawks. 

“Oh, but we are,” Iz says as she opens the door. “Friends make weekly key lime pies for each other, right?” 

She winks at him and leaves. 

“Iz, limes aren’t even in season!” he calls down the hall after her, before turning back to the mirror and taking a deep breath. 

Kent’s going to kill him. 

* * *

Kent is surprisingly chill about it on the car ride home. 

“Yeah, that’s Iz for you, she’d have figured it out one way or another, even if you hadn’t stupidly said superfecundation.” 

So Kent’s mostly chill about the whole thing. 

“That was a nice visit though, right sweetpea?” Bitty deflects. 

“Oh yeah, it was nice. I’m glad we’re so close to them now. I didn’t realize how much I missed them while I was in Vegas,” Kent agrees, looking at the view of Cayuga Lake outside the passenger side mirror. 

“I’m glad you like being closer, honey,” Bitty says warmly. “I like getting to know them better, Ma is a riot.” 

“Isn’t she though? It was so embarrassing when Iz and I were younger, but she’s great,” Kent says. 

“Yeah, I love her, she reminds me a lot of you,” Bitty says, focusing on the street. 

“Which one?” Kent asks. “Tread carefully.” 

“Karen, obviously, but you and Iz are a lot a like,” Bitty answers, making a right turn. 

“Wow, that’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me, babe,” Kent deadpans. 

“I’m sure I can think of meaner,” Bitty teases as he turns onto their street. 

“Oooh, yes, talk dirty to me, Daddy,” Kent purrs, putting his hand on Bitty’s knee. 

And Bitty’s about to reply, but a car in their driveway catches his eye. Kent sees it a split-second after Bitty does, and his hand drops from knee. 

“Is that Jack’s car?” Kent asks flatly. 

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Bitty asks nervously. 

Kent’s nostrils flare. “How fucking dare he,” he fumes. “Just, fucking show up out of the fucking blue like nothing fucking happened.” 

“Well, there’s no harm in hearing him out,” Bitty points out. “And, we were going to have to talk to him eventually anyway, hun.” 

“I wasn’t expecting it to be today,” Kent grouses, crossing his arms. 

Bitty parks on the street in front of their house before turning to Kent and holding out a hand that Kent looks at for a moment before grabbing. 

“If you want me to, I can tell him to go away,” Bitty offers. “He can go find a hotel or go back to Providence.” 

“As much as I would love that, you’re right, we should hear him out. Besides, we have to ask him about his health history,” Kent mutters bitterly. “Get it all over it in one fell swoop.” 

“Are you sure?” Bitty checks in. 

“Yes, now stop asking or I’m going to lose my nerve,” Kent grumbles before undoing his seatbelt and getting out of the car. “Fuck, we forgot to go to the grocery store, so I can’t even gorge myself on orange sherbert after Jack leaves again.” 

“I’ll make a run after,” Bitty promises when he’s out of the car. 

“See, that’s why I married you,” Kent says. “You spoil me.” 

“You’re such a cheap date, Kenny, at least hold out for fancy chocolate,” Bitty chirps.

“But the babies don’t want fancy chocolate, they want orange sherbet!” Kent exclaims as they pass Jack’s car. 

They fall silent as they get closer to the front of the house, and Jack stands up from where he was seated on one of the porch chairs. 

“Remind me to burn that chair,” Kent whispers to Bitty. 

“That’s bad for the environment,” Bitty whispers back. 

“Then, like, donate it, I don’t care,” Kent mutters back. Then, as they walk up the porch steps, in his normal voice, “What the fuck, that’s my favorite hat. How did you get it?” 

Jack takes it off, cupping it in his hands. “I, uh, the game-- you threw it on the ice, after Taco’s hatty?” 

“And you picked it up?” Bitty asks softly. “Why?” 

“I, uh, I knew it was Kent’s,” Jack stammers. “I thought I would get it back to him.” 

“You saw me after the game, you could have given it back to me then, instead of driving all the way from Providence,” Kent says snarkily, unlocking the front door and walking in. 

“I, I forgot,” Jack says, following Bitty in. 

“Fuck, Bitty, can you undo my laces?” Kent asks when confronted with the shoe rack by the door. 

“We have got to get you some slip-ons,” Bitty grumbles. Jack stops him as he starts to kneel. 

“I, uh, I can do it, I have to untie my laces anyway,” Jack says. Bitty looks to Kent, who just gestures at Jack in tacit permission. 

They take their shoes off in silence and migrate to the living room, where Kent and Bitty settle on a couch, and Jack sits on an armchair perpendicular to them. Kent leans his back against the arm of the couch, swinging his feet into Bitty’s lap and wiggling his toes until Bitty starts massaging. The position has Kent staring directly at Jack, who shifts uncomfortably. 

The silence stretches between them, and Jack fidgets, looking at his feet against the soft carpet. 

“Is someone going to start talking, or is it up to me to be the adult in the room?” Bitty finally snaps, exasperated. 

“Jack’s the one who came here, he should be the one to start,” Kent pouts. 

“Right, but we’re the hosts,” Bitty points out. 

“Are we really hosts if he came over uninvited, and we felt like we had to let him in?” Kent retorts. 

“Look, this was a bad idea, I’ll just go,” Jack says, standing up. 

“Jack Zimmerman, you did not just drive six hours from Providence to return Kent’s snapback, so sit your ass down and tell us what you came here to tell us,” Bitty growls. 

Jack sits down. 

“Well?” Kent demands when Jack just rubs his palms on his jeans. 

“Well, uh,” Jack starts, swallowing. 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger? :D
> 
> Also, I know twins are a bit cliche, but I kept trying to write a singleton pregnancy and it just did not work! Hah


	6. in another life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of important conversations to be had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter I had already written, and it's the last chapter for now. I may write an epilogue later on, but for now, that's all she wrote, dear reader. I may consider coming back to this universe later on, but for now, I consider it complete. 
> 
> Thank you to parse posi posse for all your encouragement along the way-- this fic wouldn't exist without you.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry,” Jack finally says, staring at the hat in his hands. “I--I misunderstood our-our arrangement, and instead of talking about it like an adult, I just bottled everything up and let the assumption stand. And then that fight-- that’s inexcusable, I, the things I said.”

 “You’re damn right they are,” Kent grumbles, hands on the peak of his belly.  

“Hush, Kenny, let him finish,” Bitty admonishes softly, taking his hands off of Kent’s feet. 

“I’m sorry. I wish I could go back and unsay the things I said, but I can’t,” Jack says. “I know I hurt you, and I wish I hadn’t.” 

“It’s been months, Jack,” Bitty points out gently. “Why are you apologizing now?” 

“Well, the game, you know,” Jack stammers. “I saw you, and I realized I missed being your friends, and how badly I had treated you.” 

“That was weeks ago. I know you’ve had games, but you could have apologized over text,” Kent drawls. 

“Well, I--I overheard you in the hallway, after the game,” Jack continues, putting the snapback on the coffee table and then bouncing his knee. “I heard Bitty say that-- that you love me. Both of you.” 

“Yes, and?” Kent asks. “Not exactly breaking news there, bud.” 

“I didn’t know that,” Jack reveals, stilling his knee and looking into his hands. 

“What did you mean, you didn’t know that, we were together for months, Jack,” Kent exclaims, flabbergasted. “You fucked me during my heat without a condom! What did you think that was?” 

“I don’t know!” Jack says. “I wasn’t thinking! It was just like-- you had each other! I thought I was just like, there. And that you were bored, maybe? I didn’t really think anything of this through. 

“Obviously,” Kent mutters, but Bitty shoots him a quelling look. 

“Jack, I know we could have been clearer when we asked you to-- to try this polyamorous thing, but I told you I loved you multiple times,” Bitty says softly. 

“I thought you were--that you were saying it to Kent,” Jack replies, looking at Bitty. 

“I said it when Kent wasn’t there too,” Bitty points out. 

“I--you said that to a lot of people in college, on the team. I-- you say that to your friends,” Jack says, breaking eye contact with Bitty. 

“What a clusterfuck,” Kent inserts. 

“That’s why you never said I love you back,” Bitty realizes, absently tracing circles on Kent’s ankle. 

“Huh, I thought that was just hockey robot Zimms,” Kent says thoughtfully. 

Jack flinches. “No, uh, I-- I wanted to say in January. I woke up one day, and you were singing in the shower and Bitty was curled into me with a pillow over his ear, and I knew-- well.” 

“I’m-- I don’t want to say anything snarkier or more hurtful than I’ve currently said,” Kent admits, pulling his legs off Bitty’s lap. “So I’m going to have to excuse myself from this conversation to process, and also because I’m starving.” 

Bitty helps Kent off the couch. He and Jack watch Kent slowly walk towards the kitchen, before turning back to each other. 

“Wow, he’s kind of big, right? He wasn’t that big at the game and that was less than a month ago,” Jack comments. 

“Very smart of you to wait until he’s out of the room to say that,” Bitty says brightly, before sobering. “And yeah, he’s bigger, that’s how pregnancy works. You get bigger with time.” 

“Oh, yeah, I guess-- I don’t have a lot of experience with. Pregnancy,” Jack backtracks. 

“I know,” Bitty says, dropping his face into his hands and kneading his forehead before looking back up at Jack. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be sharp, but I can’t just sit here and make idle small talk with you, Jack. You’ve said all this stuff about apologizing, but we could have done this over a phone call or something. I lived with you for-- for a while Jack, including college. I know you, or maybe not as well as I thought considering this whole situation. But I know you wouldn’t just drive six hours during the season to apologize.” 

“I came in person to apologize because I wanted to know if I could-- we could recover from this,” Jack mumbles. “I miss you guys. At the very least, I’d like to be friends again.” 

“But you want more,” Bitty deducing, sighing as Jack nods. “Look, Jack, I don’t know what to tell you. It’s not all on you; we didn’t communicate clearly enough and we assumed things instead of just talking to you, but it’s more complicated now. Not just because of what you said, but also because of-- Kent’s pregnancy. You get that right?” 

“Yeah, I get it,” Jack says. “And I kind of just sprung this on you, so I understand you guys needing more time. I just-- this wasn’t something I could do over the phone.” 

“I guess I forgot that you’re Jack 110% Zimmerman,” Bitty teases. “Listen, do you have a hotel?” 

“Uh, this was maybe a little spur of the moment?” Jack admits sheepishly. “Not, like, wanting to apologize, I’ve been thinking about that for a while, but the driving down part.” 

“You constantly find new ways to surprise me, Mr. Zimmerman,” Bitty marvels, shaking his head. “Okay, well, you can try to book a hotel or you can stay here with us if you’d rather.” 

“If it’s not an issue,” Jack hedges, lifting one shoulder in an aborted shrug. 

“Of course not! You remember where the blue guest room is, right?” Bitty asks Jack, who nods. “Great, do you want something to eat? I can whip something up quickly.” 

“No, uh, I think I should probably make myself scarce,’ Jack says ruefully. “I’ll eat out, don’t worry about me. You, uh, take care of Kent, okay?” 

“All right,” Bitty concedes. “We have a spare key in the bowl by the door, if you want to grab it so you don’t have to bother one of us to get back in.” 

“Thanks, Bittle,” Jack says, getting up as Bitty does. “I really appreciate this.” 

Bitty pauses at the threshold, looking over his shoulder at Jack. “I want you to know that just because I’m being calm right now doesn’t mean I’m not angry. I am so mad at you for what you said to Kent. Be prepared to grovel, Jack.” 

“Oh, I know,” Jack says solemnly. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes.” 

“Oh, honey,” Bitty chuckles. “Bless your heart. Kent’s going to eat you alive.” 

* * *

In the kitchen, Kent’s seated at the little breakfast nook, pouring orange juice into a bowl of pistachio ice cream. Bitty watches in horrified fascination as Kent sets down the carton and takes a hearty bit of the concoction he’s made. 

“God, I hate that I love this,” Kent moans around the spoon, before putting it back into the bowl. “Why couldn’t they have inherited your good taste instead of what is clearly my mother’s obsession with increasingly obscure and disgusting food combinations?” 

“Does your mother eat weird things?” Bitty wonders. “I’ve never noticed.” 

“You know how some people dip their french fries in ketchup and other people into their milkshakes?” Kent asks. 

“Yeah, the milkshake thing isn’t gross,” Bitty defends. 

“No, no, my mother takes it a step further and puts ketchup in her milkshakes,” Kent shudders, before taking another bite of his ice cream monstrosity. 

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Bitty begs. 

“Okay, you got me,” Kent admits. “It’s mayonnaise.” 

“Oh my god, please don’t say anything else, I will never be able to look your mother in the eye again,” Bitty pleads. 

“Come to think of it, I could use some mayo for this,” Kent muses, looking consideringly at his bowl. 

“For the love of-- god, I love you so much, but this is pushing it,” Bitty threatens, retrieving the jar of mayonnaise from the fridge and unscrewing it before setting it in front of Kent. “How much do you want?” 

“Just leave the jar, there’s not much left in it,” Kent says, carefully pouring the contents of his bowl into the jar. He screws the top back on before lifting it and shaking. 

“You’re brushing your mouth before I kiss you,” Bitty warns, eyeing the jar like it’s a bomb. 

Kent makes a face. “Toothpaste after orange juice? Eww.” 

“Really,” Bitty says dryly. “That’s your deal-breaker? Toothpaste?” 

“It’s not my fault,” Kent defends cheerily, opening the jar and sipping at the contents. “Mhmm, frothy.” 

“Do you want anything else?” Bitty says sarcastically. “Pickle juice, maybe?” 

Even though Bitty’s joking, Kent takes a moment to think about it, much to Bitty’s horror, before shaking his head. 

“Nah, it’s been giving me heartburn lately, don’t want to risk it,” Kent says, rubbing his stomach idly. 

“Giving you a hard time?” Bitty says sympathetically. 

“Ugh, I have gas like you wouldn’t believe,” Kent mutters, before taking another swig of his mixture. 

“How strange,” Bitty agrees, side-eyeing the jar. 

“What are we going to do about Jack?” Kent says abruptly, fiddling with the lid of the jar. 

“Well, I invited him to stay over tonight, in the guest room,” Bitty says. 

“Yeah, those hotel beds would be murder on his back,” Kent comments idly. 

“Well, that’s not why I had him stay, but sure,” Bitty agrees. 

Kent picks at the jar’s label. “So why is he staying?” 

“Well, uh,” Bitty starts, before finally sitting down next to Kent. “He came to apologize, right?”

“Yes, I was there for that part,” Kent says wryly, eyeing the salt shaker. 

“He-- wants to try again,” Bitty says. “You know. All three of us.” 

Kent keeps staring at the salt shaker, but Bitty suspects it’s so Kent doesn’t have to meet his eyes. At least that’s what Bitty is hoping. 

“Right now, all I can think is fuck that,” Kent finally says. 

“I don’t think any of us expect to just fall back into bed after what happened,” Bitty points out. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be open to trying again, Bitty, I really don’t,” Kent says. “I just-- Jack and me, this whole thing, it’s not the first time it’s happened. At this point, I’d call it a pattern. And I don’t know if we can break it.” 

“I get that,” Bitty says. “And I-- I want to agree with you.” 

“But you’re doing that thing where you give people the benefit of the doubt,” Kent states. 

“Well, I don’t know if I would put it quite in those terms,” Bitty says. “But yeah, I am. Plus, Jack’s not here to argue his case, so I feel like I gotta play devil’s advocate.”

“You don’t have to,” Kent says. “But you want to.” 

“You’re--yeah, you’re right about that,” Bitty agrees, huffing out a breath. “Look, obviously Jack could have handled the whole thing a lot better, and I’m very angry about everything he said to you.” 

“But,” Kent pushes. 

“But, I think we should try to be open to-- to moving on, even if we can’t forgive him,” Bitty says. “We didn’t communicate as clearly as we needed to before moving in and jumping his bones.” 

“How crude,” Kent teases. 

“But it’s true! I’m not making excuses, but you know, we know better now,” Bitty insists. “And obviously, Jack has a lot of making up to do, but after that? I’m just putting it out there.” 

“You have a point,” Kent says resentfully. “And plus, if one of the babies is Jack’s, I’d-- if Jack’s a good person, I would want the baby to know him. And we have to be at least friendly for that to happen.” 

“Yeah,” Bitty says softly, putting a hand on top of the one Kent has on his belly. 

“But he’s going to have to do a lot of groveling,” Kent adds, before picking up the jar and chugging it. 

Bitty laughs despite himself. 

“That’s what Jack said,” Bitty explains. 

“Well, good to know those fancy degrees you two got have some use,” Kent sniffs, before getting up and rummaging through the fridge. 

“Do you want me to make you anything, sweetpea?” Bitty calls. 

Kent closes the fridge door and turns to Bitty. 

“You could make me come,” he decides finally. 

“What?” Bitty asks, blinking in surprise. 

“I’m not going to say it twice,” Kent says coyly. 

“Uh, I heard you, I just,” Bitty stammers. “I wasn’t expecting that.” 

Kent pouts. “I knew it, you don’t like me like this.” 

“What’s there not to like?” Bitty says, getting up and grabbing Kent by the waist . “You, all round and bred up so perfectly for me? Honey, it’s a surprise I’m not constantly erect. But you know this, I’ve told you before.” 

“I know,” Kent says, biting his lip and running his hand down his belly til it hits Bitty’s chest. “Just all these people today, saying I’m big.” 

“Big because you’re making sure our babies grow big and strong,” Bitty purrs. “Big because you bred up so well you have two babies growing inside of you.” 

“I did a good job?” Kent asks, unsure. 

Bitty leans up and drags his lips against Kent’s slowly. They moan simultaneously, but Bitty pulls away. 

“Kenny, you’re doing the best job,” Bitty reminds Kent. “You’re so strong; I can’t even imagine doing what you’re doing.” 

“That’s because Alphas are weak,” Kent jokes, deflecting the praise. 

“Oh, yeah, we definitely are,” Bitty grins. “Ever even hinted that we have small knots? We’re worse than babies.” 

“You don’t have a small knot,” Kent murmurs sweetly, before leaning down to kiss Bitty again. 

“We-should,” Bitty gasps in between kisses. “We should take this to the bedroom.” 

“Why should we? No one else is here,” Kent points out. 

“Well, Jack could be back any moment,” Bitty explains apologetically. 

Kent throws his head back in frustration, peeling himself away from Bitty’s embrace. 

“That was an effective mood-ruiner,” Kent grumbles. 

“I know, Kent, but he’ll have to go back tomorrow, it’s the middle of the season,” Bitty reasons. 

“You’re making it up to me,” Kent says, pointing a finger at Bitty accusingly. 

“Oh, I know,” Bitty laughs. “I’ll make you some dumplings while I bake your sister her bribe pie.” 

“Wow, we’re really married,” Kent says fondly. 

“You better believe it, buster,” Bitty says cheerily, opening up the fridge. 

“What are you, an Alpha from a 1950s sitcom?” Kent chirps. 

“They didn’t have house-Alphas then, silly,” Bitty points out, grabbing a tupperware of leftover spaghetti and sticking it in the microwave. 

“That’s true,” Kent agrees. “Besides, you’re far too short to have been cast.” 

“How dare you!” Bitty exclaims. “You’re only three and a half inches taller than me.” 

“That’s basically a third of a foot, Bitty. That’s a big difference,” Kent points out smugly. 

“God, why did I marry a man good at math?” Bitty wonders aloud. “I’m getting chirped for the rest of my life about my inability to calculate a tip, aren’t I.” 

“Yep. It’s okay, they have calculators on your phone for it now,” Kent says reassuringly. 

Bitty grumbles. Kent drapes an arm around Bitty’s shoulders and presses a kiss to his hair. 

“We’re going to be alright, bud,” Kent whispers. 

* * *

Kent is woken by the incessant pressure in his bladder the next morning. When he checks his phone, he’s not surprised it’s well past the time he normally gets up; the pregnancy is taking its toll on his body, and Kent appreciates every bit of rest he can soak up, this far into his second trimester. He relieves himself and gets into the shower, groaning as the water soothes some of his back pains. He swears he’s more sore than he was after winning the Stanley Cup the fourth time, and he played the final game with several hairline fractures that required months of PT afterwards. 

After finishing up with his morning ablutions, Kent heads to the kitchen, itching for orange sherbert before remembering, once again, that they neglected to pick any up the night before. He groans, but checks the freezer anyway, hoping for a miracle. He double takes at the two pints of his favorite orange sherbert, carefully placed on the middle shelf, where there previously had been no space for anything, due to all the meals Bitty froze. The entire freezer’s been reorganized, and Kent can actually see what’s what.

“Last night, you said you wanted orange sherbet,” Jack says behind Kent, startling him. 

“Jesus, don’t sneak up on a pregnant man, dude,” Kent admonishes, before taking one of the pints. He contemplated grabbing something else, but his craving would not be denied any longer. 

“I also noticed you were out of mayonnaise, so I grabbed that, and a couple of other things,” Jack continues, following Kent to the table and sitting down after Kent does. 

“Shit, I forgot a spoon,” Kent swears, putting a hand to the small of his back as he prepares to stand up again. 

“No, I’ll get it,” Jack stops him, already striding to the drawer and grabbing a spoon. Kent takes it from him without a word and peels the lid off the carton. He’s a quarter of the way through the pint when a thought occurs to him. 

“Wait, when did you see we were out of mayonnaise?” Kent asks. “We only ran out last night.” 

“I uh, I couldn’t sleep,” Jack admits. 

“So you...did our grocery shopping,” Kent says slowly. 

“Well, it’s the least I can do,” Jack points out, shrugging. 

“Look, Jack, I’m not going to-- you can’t buy my forgiveness,” Kent sputters, putting his spoon down. 

“No, no,” Jack protests, looking horrified. “That’s not what I was doing at all, I was just-- trying to do something nice.” 

Kent narrows his eyes suspiciously at Jack, but nods reluctantly, before picking his spoon again. Another quarter of the pint before Kent looks at Jack. 

“If you haven’t slept, then you shouldn’t be driving back to Providence until you have,” Kent says, keeping his eyes on his spoon. 

“Oh, you’re right,” Jack realizes. “I should try to sleep then, I have to be back tomorrow morning for morning skate.” 

“Right, you have a game tomorrow, right?” Kent recalls, before taking a too big bite of sherbert. It’s unpleasant, but Kent doesn’t want to look at Jack after revealing how closely Kent keeps track of his game schedule, even now. 

“Yeah, I’d like to avoid taking a healthy scratch until I have to,” Jack explains. 

“Why would you ever have to take a healthy scratch-- Oh,” Kent says, follow Jack’s gaze to the soft curve of his belly. “That’s a little ambitious of you, don’t you think? Or maybe not at all, do you think you’re not going to make it to playoffs?” 

“Well, I like to aim high-- wait, what do you mean playoffs?” Jack asks. 

“They’re due in April,” Kent says, resisting the urge to rub his tummy. 

“They?” Jack says. 

“I’m surprised you don’t know ‘they’ can be used as a singular pronoun, college boy,” Kent chirps. He looks at the carton and decides he’s finished, packing it up and walking to the fridge.

“That’s going to be all freezer-burned now,” Jack points out. 

“Then buy me some more, since you’re supposed to be groveling for the near future,” Kent says sweetly, opening the fridge and putting the pint back in. 

“I really am sorry, Kent,” Jack says, and Kent slams the fridge door shut, startling Jack. 

“Oops,” Kent says, not at all apologetically, before turning to Jack. “I know you are, Jack. You just have to give me time.” 

Jack blinks, thrown. 

“Oh, I thought you were going to--,” Jack starts. 

“Be snarky? Believe me, I want to, and I definitely will,” Kent says wearily. “But-- I want to be friends, or whatever, even more. It’s just going to take time, and I’m going to be grouchy, because you hurt me, Jack, and because I’m pregnant and my hormones are all out of whack and my back hurts constantly. We’re all trying.” 

“I know you are,” Jack says softly. “Thank you for giving me a chance.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Kent dismisses. “Show your gratitude with a massage, I don’t have an appointment with my chiropractor for another three days.” 

* * *

Jack goes back to Providence after a nap, but Bitty and Kent only get a couple of hours to soak each other up before they start preparing for Iz’s holiday party. 

Or rather, before Bitty starts baking enough pies to feed an army as Kent relaxes on the living room couch, watching old home videos. 

“God, the quality on these VHS tapes are fucking awful,” Kent calls from the living room as Bitty slides out his nth pie. 

“Yes, and you know what else is awful?” Bitty yells back. 

“Your sister,” Bitty says just as Kent says “My sister.” 

Bitty smiles and looks at the pies cooling on every flat surface in his kitchen, before taking off his oven mitts and throwing them into a drawer. He walks into the living room only to find Kent wiping away tears on the sleeve of the hoodie he’s wearing. 

“Oh, what’s wrong?” Bitty asks, immediately sitting down next to Kent and pulling him into an embrace. 

“Just, I forgot about all the fun we used to have,” Kent sobs. “Look, my dad, he’s smiling, if I hadn’t been an omega,-- maybe he’d still be here. ” 

“Kent,” Bitty says helpless, grabbing the remote and turning off the television. “Kent, you can’t-- you can’t blame yourself for that, his love shouldn’t have been conditional.”

“I don’t-- I know, but, how could he just...what happened?” Kent says wetly into the crook of Bitty’s neck. 

“I don’t know, sweetie,” Bitty murmurs, rubbing his hand up and down Kent’s back soothingly. 

Kent sits back, looking at Bitty. “Do you think I’ll be like that? You know. My dad.” 

“Do you think I’ll be like my dad?” Bitty asks carefully. 

“No, but you’re different,” Kent points out, sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve. Bitty makes a face but decides not to comment. 

“Okay, but you’re worried about being a good dad,” Bitty says gently. “Bad people tend not to worry about their actions.” 

“That sounds fake,” Kent reflects. 

“How about, I’m here, and so is your sister, and your mother, and we won’t let you do anything you’ll regret,” Bitty promises. 

“That does make me feel better,” Kent admits. “I don’t trust myself.” 

“I know,” Bitty says, rearranging them so Kent’s lying in Bitty’s lap, so Bitty can play with Kent’s hair. “We’ll work on that.” 

“I’m just so afraid of fucking all this up,” Kent confesses after Bitty’s been playing with his hair for a while. “And there’s two of them, that’s double the chances to get everything wrong.” 

“I think your math is wrong, but I’m not good enough to say so confidently,” Bitty notes idly. 

“I’m being serious,” Kent insists. 

“I know you are, sorry, I’m trying to figure out what I could say that would be helpful,” Bitty says apologetically. “I’m scared too.”

 “You are?” Kent asks, tilting his face up to look at Bitty. “That’s the first time I’m hearing you say it.” 

“I didn’t want to-- Lord, I’m silly. I didn’t want you to worry, but I know I feel so relieved when you say you’re scared too, and I hope it makes you feel better to hear me say it,” Bitty says in a rush. 

“It does, a little bit. We’re both just fumbling along, trying to figure this out together, aren’t we?” Kent murmurs, grabbing one of Bitty’s hands and kissing the back of it. 

“Yeah, we are,” Bitty says. “You know with my-- my parents, they weren’t great, either. And so we’ll be the blind leading the blind.” 

“Ma’s going to spend the first month after the babies are born just, living here,” Kent realizes. 

“Oh yeah, we’re going to be so fucking clueless, hon,” Bitty chuckles. “But we’re lucky. We have an amazing support system, and we have-- well, you’re filthy rich, which helps a lot.” 

“Does it make you feel better when you tell yourself those things?” Kent wonders. 

“Yeah, a little bit,” Bitty replies. 

“I’m glad,” Kent says drowsily. 

“Are you falling asleep?” Bitty asks. 

“Yeah,” Kent murmurs. “Growing babies is hard work.” 

“Harder than overtime in game seven of the Stanley cup finals?” Bitty chirps. 

Kent’s snores answer him. Bitty carefully eases out from under him and returns to the kitchen, where he’s surprised by the sheer number of pies. 

“The things I do for Iz,” Bitty mutters darkly, rolling up his sleeves and beginning the arduous process of packing up the pies and relocating them to the trunk of their SUV. 

* * *

When Kent finally wakes up, they make their way over to Iz’s, where they are immediately greeted by a wall of noise. Kent blanches before he makes a beeline for the nearest chair. 

“Oh, that pies are here!” Iz exclaims when she catches sight of Bitty. 

“Nice to see you too, sister-in-law,” Bitty teases. 

“Oh, you know I love you,” Iz dismisses, hugging Bitty. “Where’s my brother?” 

“I saw him run towards the living room, probably just found somewhere to be comfortable,” Bitty says. “Happy Holidays! I did not bring you a present because I made you pies.” 

“Aww,” Iz pouts. “In all seriousness though, thank you so much, I really appreciate the work you put into them.” 

“You haven’t tried them yet, they could be absolutely terrible,” Bitty points out wryly. 

“Like your pride would let your baking reputation be sullied for the sake of petty revenge,” Iz chuckles. 

“You got me there. Now, I have to go get the rest of the pies, shoo!” Bitty deflects, before enlisting the help of some of Iz’s friends who transfer the pies from his car to the kitchen. 

“Bro, these look so good,” Sunny says as Bitty sets down a stack of three pies on the kitchen counter. Bitty smiles at him. 

“Please, help yourself! They’re labeled with their flavors,” Bitty tells the crowd slowly forming in the kitchen. “If you have any food allergies and have concerns, come find me and we can go over the ingredients together!” 

And with that, Bitty ducks out of the kitchen and makes his way to the living room, where Kent is lounging on one of the couches, drinking out of a purple Solo cup. Bitty smiles and lifts Kent’s feet gently before sitting down and placing them in his lap. 

“I was wondering where you had run off to,” Bitty says. 

“That’s my line, I haven’t moved since I got here,” Kent chirps. 

“That’s fair,” Bitty says agreebly, absently massaging Kent’s feet. “How are you feeling?”

“So fucking old,” Kent grouses, waving his hand at the crowd of twenty-somethings mingling. “How are they so fucking chipper? I saw someone slam back an entire cup of vodka with no mixer and wanted to puke, but she didn’t even stumble after.”

“You do realize I’m like four years younger than most of these people,” Bitty teases. 

“Oh, don’t remind me, I’m robbing the fucking cradle,” Kent jokes. 

“I’d been filling out my own taxes long before you realized tax season was in March,” Bitty says pointedly. 

“I guess that does make me feel a little better,” Kent muses. 

“Plus, we’re married, there’s no way you’re getting rid of me now,” Bitty insists. 

“Of course not, who else would give me such good foot massages?” Kent says fondly, wiggling his toes. 

“It’s the least I can do,” Bitty murmurs as the party continues full swing around him. “Are they eating my pie with their hands?” 

“What did you expect from drunk academics, babe?” Kent admonishes. 

“I really don’t know why I expect people to be more well-behaved at ragers,” Bitty sighs. 

“When did people stop listening to music?” Kent complains. “This is just noise.” 

“Wanna head out?” Bitty offers. “I’m sure Iz would understand.” 

“I’m too tired to walk to the car,” Kent pouts, but the foot he’s pressing down on Bitty’s soft dick contradicts his statement. “Let’s just go to the guest room.”

“Sounds like a great plan,” Bitty agrees immediately, trying not to chub up right there. He gets up and helps Kent up. Kent leans in for a kiss. 

“Not here,” Bitty scolds, grabbing Kent’s hand and pulling them towards the guest room. Bitty opens the door and immediately shuts it, shaking his head. Now that Kent’s paying attention, he can hear faint moans and gasps over the sounds of the party.

“Occupied?” Kent guesses, and Bitty just shudders, but continues walking down the hall to the next room. 

“Wait, this is Iz’s room,” Kent protests as the door closes behind them. 

“Ugh, you’re right,” Bitty says. “We can’t-- not in here.” 

Kent appears to consider it for a moment, to Bitty’s horror, before he nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, it’s her party, she would literally kill me,” Kent agrees, walking towards the bed. 

“Wait, what are you doing?” Bitty asks, grabbing Kent’s wrist. 

“I’m sitting down, because I’m tired,” Kent says slowly. 

“You can’t sit down on her bed!” Bitty blurts. 

“I mean, we’re not going to do anything so it’s fine, bud,” Kent cajoles. 

“Well, uh--” Bitty fishes for something to say. “Her tub!” 

“Yeah, she has a sweet tub,” Kent says. “Where are you going with this?” 

“I’ll grab some pillows, and you can sit in the tub,” Bitty explains, taking some pillows off the bed. 

“Bitty, there’s a perfectly good bed right here, why would I sit in the tub?” Kent asks, exasperated, but offering no resistance as Bitty pulls him into the bathroom. 

“So I can suck your dick, of course,” Bitty says matter-of-fact, arranging the pillows in the tub before offering his hand to Kent, who takes it before gingerly stepping into the tub.

Once Kent’s standing in the tub, Bitty carefully pulls his pants down and then takes Kent’s shirt off. Kent’s cock is fully hard by the time he’s carefully sitting down in the tub, Bitty’s arms under his armpits for balance. Kent settles into the pillows, and then Bitty’s mouth is on his dick without preamble. 

Kent sighs and cards his fingers through Bitty’s hair, relaxing as Bitty keeps sucking languidly. When Kent finally orgasms, he’s quiet. Bitty sits up and pulls Kent into a kiss and they just make out in the tub for a while. 

When they finally pull apart, Kent hums. “We should do this more often.” 

“Have sex in your sister’s bath tub?” Bitty asks, raising an eyebrow skeptically. 

“No, just, cuddle. Be slow,” Kent says dreamily. “There’s been so much happening. It’s nice to take a break with you.”

“Yeah, hun,” Bitty agrees. “Sorry I’ve been so busy lately, just trying to film and edit as much as I can for the channel before the babies are born. I wanna be here, with you and them, when they’re born.” 

“What if I want to make the most of the time we have now?” Kent asks, biting his lip. “We got married in October, babe, and we’re having these kids in April. We’re never going to have this time before they’re here; after April, we’re always going to be parents, and we’re going to have to put them first.” 

“You’re right,” Bitty says. “I’m sorry I’ve been so absent recently. I’ll try to be better about doing stuff when you’re napping or sleeping, okay?” 

“Yeah, that’ll be nice,” Kent mumbles, eyes drooping. 

“Oh, no, you can’t fall asleep here,” Bitty says immediately. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in the bed.” 

“I wanna sleep at home,” Kent whines sleepily as Bitty finds a washcloth and, after wetting it, carefully wipes Kent clean. 

“I’m sure Iz will understand, sweetie,” Bitty says, helping Kent out of the tub. 

“She won’t yell at me?” Kent asks as Bitty tucks him into Iz’s bed. 

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Bitty promises, pressing a kiss to Kent’s forehead. He moves away, but pauses as Kent grabs his wrist. 

“Where are you going?” Kent asks. 

“I’m going to go help Iz with the party, but I’ll be back,” Bitty cajoles, gently pulling his hand out of Kent’s grip. 

“Okay, hurry back,” Kent requests, before closing his eyes. His breathing even outs almost immediately, and Bitty quietly closes the door behind him before heading towards the kitchen. 

Judging by how much Iz was drinking earlier, Bitty’s going to have to do the bulk of the cleaning. 

* * *

“Well, Izzy’s going to have enough pie to last her the next two months,” Kent groans as they settle into bed when they eventually get home, well after midnight. 

“And yet she still wants me to keep making her bribery pie,” Bitty says, annoyed. 

“I can talk to her,” Kent offers. “Worst comes to worst, I have blackmail material that should still be convincing.” 

“Nah, I don’t mind making pies,” Bitty says. “I’m just being ornery on principle.” 

“I love it when you go all crotchety old man on me,” Kent muses, before carefully turning so he can look at Bitty. “You’re normally so polite.” 

“I don’t understand you Northerners, looking at me like I’m some kind of demon when I smile,” Bitty protests. 

“We are deeply untrustful of anyone who’s that easily happy, they’re probably a Republican,” Kent jokes. 

“Kent Parson, you shut your mouth, I would  _ never _ vote Republican,” Bitty gasps, swatting at Kent’s arm. “I wasn’t raised a fool.” 

“I know, I know,” Kent chuckles. “It’s just that-- there’s a lot of bad shit happening in the world, and has for a while. It takes so much energy to perform happiness the way Southerners do. How do they have so much energy? Sacrificing virgins?” 

“Well, I certainly don’t sacrifice virgins,” Bitty sniffs. “But, I guess I see your point. I don’t know, I was always taught that smiling at someone could brighten up their day, you know? Even if they’re a stranger.” 

“Some stranger smiling at you up here usually means they’re thinking about deeply creepy thoughts,” Kent explains. 

“That sounds like such a lonely way to live,” Bitty muses. “Or-- that’s not the right word for it, lonely. Don’t you ever just look at people and wonder what it’d be like to be their friend? To know what brings them joy, what makes them cry?” 

“This is way too philosophical for me,” Kent deflects. “I’ve had too much pie, and it’s making me so sleepy.” 

“I’m serious!” Bitty insists, propping his head up on his hand. “Isn’t it nerve-wracking to make friends with someone if all you see is a neutral expression? How do you know if someone’s open to being talk to?” 

“Huh. I never really thought about it that way,” Kent reflects. “I mean, I guess you say something disparaging about the city and their inability to do anything for the good of the people or something about how much you hate the weather, and if someone hears you, they agree, and you eventually end up friends? How do you make friends?” 

“Come to think of it, it always just sort of just happens,” Bitty answers thoughtfully. “Like, sometimes you just know you’re going to be someone’s friend.” 

“Yeah,” Kent says. “Yeah, I just knew with Jack in the Q. I didn’t even know his dad was Bad Bob, honestly, I just saw him practicing, and the way he kept to himself, and I knew I wanted to make him care about me.” 

“God, yeah, Jack just has that way about him, doesn’t he? All broody and intense,” Bitty says thoughtfully. “I wanted him to like me so bad. I wasn’t a stranger to people not liking me, growing up in homophobic Georgia like I did, but this was something else.” 

“Well, he was your captain, it’s only natural that you’d want him to like you,” Kent points out. 

“I don’t know how to describe it Kenny, but it went beyond that,” Bitty muses. “I’d see a pie recipe on Pinterest, and I’d wonder, ‘Would Jack try this?’, or I’d try so hard in practice, but that never worked.” 

“Sounds like you had a crush early on,” Kent teases. “I know I did.” 

“Yes, honey, I’m sure you did, but I don’t think it was a crush, not exactly,” Bitty corrects. “It was like a part of me recognized that he was like me and told me to keep trying. It’s the same part that told me to keep trying with you.” 

“Okay, but that wasn’t friendship in the beginning, that was just us hooking up,” Kent points out. 

“Honey, you were my first casual relationship,” Bitty confesses. “And look how that turned out.” 

Kent’s silent for a moment. Bitty tries to make out his expression, but their bedroom is too dark for him to see anything. 

“What does that part of you say now?” Kent finally asks. “About Jack.” 

“It says I should keep trying,” Bitty says softly. “Because it knows you and me are solid, no matter what.” 

“We better fucking be,” Kent jokes, reaching his hand towards Bitty, who grasps it firmly. 

“Trust me, honey, I’d be an idiot if I let anything happen to us.” 

* * *

Bitty uploads a Youtube video later that week. It starts with a shot of him in the kitchen, but then instead of Bitty’s voice narrating, it’s Kent. 

“Hey, I’m Kent and this is ‘My Fiance’--uh, sorry, ‘Husband Does My Voiceover.’ Just a heads up, I’m pretty sure that whatever Bitty does in the kitchen involves witchcraft, so this isn’t going to be a useful tutorial at all.” 

Bitty smiles on camera and snaps, and the counter in front of him is suddenly covered with ingredients, bowls, the stand mixer, and other baking paraphernalia.  

“See? Fu--fudging witchcraft.” The narration pauses, and there’s some indistinct murmuring. “So, Bitty says I can curse, thank fucking god, cause I’m making the most out of my last couple of months of being to swear as freely as possible.” 

Bitty picks up a container of flour and holds it closer to the camera to show the label. “So now, he’s using some kind of flour. Fuck, I can’t read what kind it is. Whatever, it’s flour. I’m not hauling my ass off this ridiculously comfy office chair to check the pantry.” 

Bitty scoops the flour into a bowl on a scale. “So, measure your flour by weight? Bitty will probably put the recipe in the description box like he usually does.” 

Bitty sets the bowl aside and picks up another sack. “I’m pretty sure that’s sugar? Fuck, I don’t even know what he’s supposed to be making. Guess he just enjoys me being clueless on the internet. Comment down below ways I can get back at him for this.” 

The on-screen Bitty starts measuring out the sugar, and Kent makes a little sound of realization. “Ohhh, it’s powdered sugar. You know, that would go really well on this pickle. Be right back.” 

There’s no narration as Bitty finishes measuring out the powdered sugar, but then Kent’s back. “Okay, he’s putting the sugar into the flour-- I think he might be making macaroons? Wait, no, I think that’s the coconut this. Macarons? The little almond cookies from France, Bitty and I visited a couple of years ago, and we had a lot of fun-- shit, what’s he doing now?” 

On- screen, Bitty has started to sift the the almond flour-sugar mixture into a bigger bowl. “Uh, so I don’t actually know what he’s doing here, he’s just, like, putting the powder into a cup and like, it comes out of the bottom? This doesn’t look like an important step, you can probably skip it. Wait, I kind of remember this, it’s like he’s shitting the-- no, that can’t be right. But it’s something like that. Fuck, I should watch more of his videos.” 

The camera angle changes so it’s an overhead shot of a bowl and Bitty’s hands. “Oh, wow, I didn’t realize this was going to be soft-core porn.” More indistinct muttering. “Okay, whatever. Just, wow. Soft hands. Bitty’s so good at handling a stick. A hockey stick. That’s definitely what I mean. Wait, you can’t see me winking. Oh, fuck, so he’s cracking eggs into his hand. That doesn’t seem sanitary. Right, he’s separating the egg whites from the yolk. He’s definitely making the almond cookies. Wait. He already made this cookies. Where are the cookies? He filmed this two days ago. Did he hide the cookies from me?” 

Rustling sounds as the Bitty on-screen continues to crack eggs, and then chewing sounds. “Shit,” Kent says, voice muffled. “I have to finish this before I can eat any more cookies. Spoiler alert, they’re fucking incredible, and if you hear any weird sounds it’s probably because I could not resist temptation, and ended up trying to figure out how many I could fit into my mouth like Chubby Bunny.” 

Bitty pours the eggs whites into the stand mixer, and the angle changes to a shot of the inside of the bowl. “Mix your egg whites? Fuck if I know what speed or how long. Oh, he’s sprinkling in something. I don’t know what it is. Check the recipe? It’s starting to foam up. Annnd there’s a time skip, and now the eggs are white and much bigger. He’s adding, like, drops of black liquid-- that’s food coloring. The eggs are blue now? If they’re eggs. Ooh fancy camera angle change. Bitty’s-- turning the mixing bowl upside down over his head, what the fuck the eggs are going to-- they did not fall out. Fucking magic, folks, I don’t know how he does it.” 

Okay, so now he’s taking some of the eggs and mixing them into the flour-sugar mixture with a rubber spatula. Is the material of the spatula important? Did they have rubber spatulas in France when they first started making these cookies? You know, I should have looked up some fun facts about-- wait, I didn’t even know what this video was about until Bitty sat me down and told me to do the voiceover. I wonder how much of this voiceover Bitty is going to edit. Will there be little beeps instead of all the fucks I say? That sounds like a lot of effort. I’m getting tired, and all I’m doing is talking. 

Well, I guess I’m constantly incubating, so that takes a toll, former pro hockey player or not. Guys, pregnancy is so exhausting, I have a whole new respect for pregnant people-- goddammit, when did get the baking tray out? How did he get the batter in the bag? I’m just going to assume you were paying more attention than I am, and-- he’s squeezing out little circles of the batter. 

And now he’s sliding them into the oven. Did he preheat the over? Was I supposed to tell you guys to preheat your ovens? I don’t even fucking know-- oh the oven’s on, I can see the little light. Uh, check the recipe in the description box to see how hot to make your oven? What is the point of this? Not the baking, me narrating. Like, if you’re subscribed to Bitty’s channel, you’re obviously here to learn, and there is no way I’m being the least bit helpful. 

Oh god, he’s making something else while the cookies are baking. I can’t do this anymore, I’m tired, and my everything aches and I just want to eat cookies. You can probably figure out what he’s doing better than I can, honestly. I should upload clips of this video to my twitter and ask people to narrate them badly, and just read those off. Delegate, right? Oh my god, did Bitty delegate? Am I doing this because Bitty was too lazy to do the narration himself and he thought this was funny? 

My husband’s so clever, y’all. This was a genius idea. But I’m going to stop talking now so I can go suck his--.” 

The video cuts off abruptly, before continuing. The Bitty onscreen is in a different outfit and seated in the study. 

“Hope y’all enjoyed this video. Don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe! Find me on social media-- you can find the links in the description box. Let me know what you’d like to see. I also put the recipe in the description box, and I’ll put up an actual tutorial next week, promise. Have a great day y’all!” 

* * *

“Bitty, did you order something online?” Kent calls as he looks at the large box on their porch. 

“No!” Bitty calls back. “Does it look heavy? Don’t pick it up, I’m coming.” 

Bitty’s at the door in seconds, and he picks up the box awkwardly. In the living room, Kent sits down on the couch while Bitty retrieves scissors from the kitchen. Bitty eventually comes back with a knife. 

“I thought you were getting scissors,” Kent teases. 

Bitty roll his eyes at Kent and gets to work opening the box. 

“What is it?” Kent asks when the contents of the box are lying on the living room rug. It’s a large, C-shaped pillow. 

“Uh, the card in the box says it’s a pregnancy support pillow,” Bitty says, handing the card over to Kent. 

“Oh, this looks really useful actually,” Kent exclaims. “But wait, who sent it?”

Bitty’s already dialing, and he smiles at Kent. “Jack, sweetie.” 

“Oh,” Kent says. “This is very thoughtful. You could-- you could just text him.” 

“I know Jack likes calls better,” Bitty explains, holding his finger above the call button. “If you don’t want to talk to him, I can say thank you on your behalf.” 

“Yeah, do you-- can you do that please? Thanks,” Kent says absently, grabbing the pillow and frowning when it proved too unwieldy for him to carry. 

“I got it,” Bitty interferes quickly, seeing how Kent’s forehead crinkles in frustration. 

Bitty picks up the pillow and follows Kent into the bedroom. They arrange it until Kent’s happy, and the moment Kent lies down, it’s like a switch has been flipped. 

“Oh my god that is so comfortable,” Kent moans. “Why haven’t we gotten one of these before? I’m never getting up ever again.” 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Bitty says, amused. “I’m going to call Jack, but just holler if you need me.” 

“No, no, call him here, I gotta thank him for this,” Kent insists. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.” 

Bitty is silent for a moment, and Kent frantically backtracks. “I mean it’s nothing compared to that dinner you made me for my first birthday after we moved in together, of course.” 

“No, Kenny, I was just trying to think if I’d given you a better present, and I hate to admit it, but Jack’s got me beat here, this is a genuinely very good and thoughtful present,” Bitty admits ruefully. 

“Guess you gotta glow up your present game,” Kent chirps. 

“Kent that’s-- no, that’s not how slang works,” Bitty sighs. 

“Whatever, let’s call Jack! Ooh, FaceTime him, that way he can see I’m actually using it,” Kent demands. 

“Are you sure, you were hesitating a little bit earlier,” Bitty checks. 

“Bitty, if Jack were here, I’d probably be blowing him as a thank you, so yeah, I’m sure, fucking call him already,” Kent says impatiently. 

“All right, all right,” Bitty says, laughing. “Pushy.” 

“You love it,” Kent says cheekily, snuggling deeper into his pillow as Bitty FaceTimes Jack. 

“Hey Jack!” Bitty says once Jack picks up. “Kent just got your package, and he’s putting it to good use.” 

Bitty flips the camera so Jack can see Kent relaxing. 

“Hey Jack,” Kent says without opening his eyes, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheek. “I’m divorcing Bitty so I can elope with this pillow.” 

“That’s Kent for thank you,” Bitty says sotto voce. 

“I can hear you,” Kent grumbles. 

“No problem, bud,” Jack chuckles. “I’m glad you like it. Hopefully it makes the chiropractor’s job a little easier.” 

“Why didn’t my chiropractor tell me about this?” Kent grouses. “This seems like the type of thing I pay her money to tell me about.” 

“They usually only make them for female omegas,” Jack explains. “I got someone from Etsy to make you a custom one based on your measurements.”

Kent opens one suspicious eye. 

“How did you get these measurements?” he asks. 

“I googled them?” Jack says uncertainly. “You were a famous hockey player, bud. There’s a lot of information about you out there.” 

“Huh,” Kent wonders. “I didn’t think you knew Google existed.” 

“Harsh, Kent,” Bitty comments. 

“Okay, yes, that was a step too far,” Kent admits. “In all seriousness, I love this pillow, and if you were here, I would have dropped to my knees as soon as I got out of bed.” 

“Which is shaping up to be never, judging by how comfortable he’s gotten,” Bitty tells Jack, switching back to the front-facing camera and adjusting himself so he’s lying next to Kent. 

“I’m glad that it’s being put to good use” Jack says sincerely, smiling. 

“What are you up to?” Kent interjects. 

“I was about to go for a jog,” Jack starts. 

“Wait, don’t you jog in the morning?” Bitty asks. 

“Well, yes,” Jack hedges. 

“Are you jogging twice in a day, Zimms? That’s intense, even for you,” Kent jokes, but he doesn’t quite manage to hide the concern in his voice. 

“I have a lot of pent-up energy,” Jack deflects. “Cardio’s good for you.” 

“Does your nutritionist know?” Kent asks suspiciously. “Your trainer? Cardio’s good, but you have to make sure you’re fueling up too.” 

“Yes, Kent, I promise I’m being perfectly safe,” Jack cajoles. 

“I know you, Jack, so if I see any sign of you not being one hundred percent when you visit next weekend, I’m calling up Georgia,” Kent threatens. 

“Whoa, did you and Bitty switch bodies?” Jack asks. 

“Just because Bitty was the Mom Friend in college doesn’t mean I’m not capable of assuming the mantle,” Kent sniffs. 

“You’re absolutely right, sweetheart, but I had to teach you how to use the dishwasher when I first moved in,” Bitty points out. 

“Oh my god, that was five years ago! Obviously I’ve grown since then,” Kent huffs. 

“You definitely have,” Bitty mutters, but not quietly enough. 

“Was that-- was that a fat joke?” Kent says, lifting his head from his pillow, jaw  dropping. 

“Okay, so I’m just going to hang up,” Jack says slowly. 

“Don’t you dare!” Bitty and Kent say in unison. 

“You really don’t need me here for this,” Jack tries, but his protests are unheard. 

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Bitty insists. 

“Uh, yeah, you did, now apologize,” Kent says firmly. 

“Ugh,” Bitty says. “Fine, yes, I’m sorry.” 

“Great! Now go sleep in the guest room,” Kent demands. 

“What, I said I was sorry!” Bitty protests. 

“Fuck, I probably can’t sleep without you here anyway,” Kent grumbles. “Fine, you have to sleep in actual pajamas instead of just boxers.” 

“Kent,” Bitty whines. 

“Next time you’ll pause before you even think that I’m fat,” Kent says, before closing his eyes again. 

They don’t say anything for a moment. 

“Uh, so can I hang up now?” Jack asks. 

“I’m sorry,” Bitty says at the same moment, voice softer. “That was awful of me, and I shouldn’t have said it. And of course you’ve matured and changed in the years I’ve known you and I can’t wait to change with you.” 

“You better be,” Kent grumbles. “Fine, I accept your apology. But only if you get me some orange sherbert from the fridge.” 

Bitty nods and runs off to the kitchen. Kent reaches out and picks up the phone. 

“Are all your fights resolved so easily?” Jack wonders. 

“We weren’t always like this,” Kent says wearily. “It took years, and even now we fuck it up sometimes. You have to-- it’s not just apologizing, but also making a commitment to changing, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Jack says. “I get it.” 

“I’m going to hang up now,” Kent tells Jack. 

“Good night, bud,” Jack says. 

“Good night,” Kent says after a beat. 

* * *

On Christmas Day, Bitty wakes up by himself. He stretches his arm out to Kent’s side, and it’s cool to the touch. He frowns, getting out of bed. 

He finds Kent in the kitchen, humming as he makes blueberry pancakes, back facing Bitty. Bitty clears his throat, and Kent turns around, smiling. 

“Merry Christmas,” Bitty says, walking over to Kent. 

“Merry Christmas,” Kent says back, pressing a kiss to Bitty’s forehead before turning back to the stove. 

“I can make pancakes, sweetpea,” Bitty starts, but Kent holds up one hand. 

“I always make breakfast for you on Christmas, I could be scheduled for a C-section later today, and you couldn’t stop me from following tradition,” Kent insists. 

“Hmm, well, that’s not the case today, so I’m going to humor you,” Bitty chuckles, taking a seat at the island. Kent blows a raspberry without turning back to face Bitty. 

He watches fondly as Kent pours hot chocolate from a pot on the stove into two mugs already lined up on the counter. Bitty hops off the island chair to grab the bag of marshmallows, giving Kent’s cup three before dumping a handful in his own and taking it back to the island, where he only has time to take a sip before the doorbell rings.

“That must be Jack,” Bitty exclaims, abandoning his mug of hot chocolate in favor of walking towards the door.

“Oh fuck, he’s early, and I’m covered in flour,” Kent realizes, reaching for the kitchen towel hanging on the dishwasher handle and trying to dust the flour off of him. 

“I’m sure he won’t mind, he’s seen you dirtier,” Bitty reassures before leaving to get the door. 

Bitty doesn’t hear Kent’s reply as he opens the door. 

“Merry Christmas!” Karen and Iz shout as soon as they see him, and Bitty takes a moment to blink in surprise before he’s smothered by the both of them hugging him tightly. 

“I thought you were going to the Bahamas?” Bitty asks, confused, when they push past him and make a beeline to the living room. He follows them, bemused, as they start stacking presents under the tree. 

“We were, but then our flight yesterday got delayed, and then I remembered I hated sweating even if I love the sun, and Ma remembered that she forgot to bring over the presents, and we decided to surprise you!” Iz explains in a rush. 

Just then, Kent comes into the living room, his smile fading as he took in the sight of his mother and sister. 

“Oh Kent, look at you!” Karen exclaims, getting up and throwing her arms around him. Kent looks at Bitty, panicked, and mouths  _ What the fuck _ . Bitty can only shrug. 

“I smell blueberry pancakes!” Iz squeals, making her way into the kitchen. 

“Oh Kent, have you been cooking? You should take it a little easier,” Karen scolds. 

“I’m an adult Ma,” Kent whines. “And it’s Christmas, let me live.” 

“Why do you have three plates of pancakes set out?” Iz calls from the kitchen. 

“I uh,” Kent searches for an answer, making a face at Bitty when Karen’s not looking. “Oh, I think one of the babies kicked!” 

Kent grabs Karen’s hand and puts it on his bump, looking pointedly at Bitty, who nods and goes to the kitchen. Iz doesn’t spare the table another glance as she rushes to the living room. By the time Bitty’s put another plate on the breakfast table, the other three are making their way into the kitchen. 

“So you’ve been feeling the babies kick for a while, but no one else has been able to feel them yet?” Iz asks. 

“Yeah, but we know they’re kicking, we saw it on the ultrasound at the last appointment,” Bitty answers, guiding Kent to sit at the table and grabbing the platter of pancakes from the kitchen counter next to the stove. 

“You’ll be the first to know, babe,” Kent reassures Bitty, and they spend a moment staring into each other’s eyes while Bitty holds the platter.

“Ugh, it’s Christmas, don’t start kissing,” Iz complains as she grabs five pancakes and puts them on her plate. 

“Going to leave some for the rest of us?” Kent asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, I’d offer to make more, but it looks like you made enough to feed an entire hockey team,” Iz snarks. “Overkill much?” 

“If you think you can just barge into my house, on Christmas,” Kent starts heatedly, before he’s cut off by Bitty putting pancakes on Kent’s plate. 

“She just wants to rile you up, Kenny, stop reacting,” Bitty murmurs so Iz can’t hear. 

“Fuck that,” Kent grumbles under his breath, but tucks into his pancakes. 

Bitty waits until Iz and Karen are preoccupied with their pancakes before leaning towards Kent. 

“What do we do about Jack?” Bitty whispers. 

“Just play it cool,” Kent mutters back. “It’s totally normal for friends to visit on Christmas.” 

“Okay, but what if they point out he could be spending Christmas with his family?” Bitty hisses. 

“His family doesn’t even celebrate Christmas, it’s fine,” Kent reminds Bitty quietly, before turning back to his pancakes. 

Bitty hums, unconvinced. Karen and Iz pull Kent into their conversation, but Bitty drifts, thinking of warmer, louder Christmases. He’s brought out of his bittersweet nostalgia by Kent handing him a stack of dirty plates. 

“Whoever doesn’t cook does the dishwashing!” Kent says gleefully. 

“Let them soak in the sink, I want to open presents already,” Iz pouts. 

“Yes, let them soak, I’m ready to open presents, but you have to do them later!” Kent corrects. 

“If I don’t do them now, they’re never getting done,” Bitty counters, forcing a smile onto his face. “You guys go on without me, I’ll just clean up.” 

“Bits, it’s Christmas, you can do them later,” Kent cajoles. 

“Ha, you say that now, but you’ll end up having to do them,” Bitty insists. “Go! Open your presents. This shouldn’t take me long.” 

“Kiddos, Bitty’s an adult, if he wants to clean up first, let him clean up,” Karen interjects. 

“Okay, but we’re not opening any presents until you’re done,” Kent says. 

“No, you don’t need to do that,” Bitty protests as Iz says, “I’m opening presents and you can’t stop me.” 

Kent opens his mouth, but Bitty cuts him off. “Kent, just open presents, it’s fine, okay?” 

Kent frowns at Bitty, but Iz and Karen pull him into the living room. 

Bitty takes a breath and puts the dishes in the sink, turning the faucet on and running it until the water is hot. He holds a plate at the edge of the spray, careful to not let the water bounce off the plate and go all over the kitchen. He just stands there for a moment, letting the water run over the plate and his hands, and just as the water gets just barely too hot for him, he starts crying quietly. 

It’s Christmas, and his husband is amazing, and his in-laws are fantastic, and Bitty still, somehow, misses Christmases back home. It’s been years, and if he closes his eyes, he can almost smell MooMaw’s pecan pie, can almost hear Susanne and Aunt Judy arguing about jam, can almost see the game rerun Coach’s watching. 

Bitty has so much more now than what he lost when he cut contact with his family, and he tells himself that, tells himself to stop crying, it’s  _ Christmas _ , and his life is great, but the tears continue to fall. He closes his eyes again and urges himself to just finish cleaning the dishes, to do something besides cry, to stop being useless. He’s startled when the plate slips out of his grip and crashes into the other dishes in the sink. Staring at the sink for a moment, he manages to turn off the sink before Kent’s poking his head into the kitchen.

“Bitty, what was that sound?” Kent asks. 

Bitty swallows before answering. 

“Just dropped a plate, everything’s fine,” Bitty says, voice steady until it cracks on the last word. He suddenly wishes he hadn’t turned the faucet off, if not to disguise his voice then at least for the comfort of warm water. 

“Bitty?” Kent asks cautiously, footsteps moving closer. Bitty tries to blink back the tears and hastily wipes at his face, but when Kent gently turns him around, he can tell he was unsuccessful at hiding by the way Kent’s face falls. 

“What’s wrong?” Kent asks, brows drawing together in concern. 

“It’s nothing that won’t keep, let me finish the dishes,” Bitty deflects. 

“Bitty, you’re crying,” Kent says gently. “Talk to me.” 

“It’s Christmas, it’s silly,” Bitty protests, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears. “Just, we can talk about it later. Ms. Par--Ma and Iz are waiting for us.” 

“It’s Christmas, you shouldn’t be holding back your tears because you’re afraid of ruining the holiday,” Kent insists. 

“Your family’s here, I don’t want to ruin it,” Bitty says. 

Kent looks down at him for a moment, before moving away suddenly. Bitty turns back to the sink and manages to rinse off the plate he’s holding before Kent’s back. 

“What are you doing here, are you already done opening presents?” Bitty asks, trying not to sniff. His nose is running but he has to finish rinsing, and he refuses to wipe his nose on his shirt. 

Kent grabs a paper towel and gently wipes Bitty’s nose for him. Bitty makes a face at the rough texture, but gives Kent a watery smile after. 

“No, I sent Ma and Iz home,” Kent answers, just watching as Bitty finishes rinsing off the plate. 

“What, Kent, I’m fine,” Bitty protests, putting the plate down and wiping his hands on the dish towel. “I’ll go call them back, it’s Christmas, we should be spending it with--.” 

“Our family?” Kent interrupts, raising an eyebrow at Bitty. “I agree, but you said they were my family earlier.” 

“That was just a slip of the tongue, of course they’re family,” Bitty backtracks. “Look, I’ll-- text them to come back, they couldn’t have gotten far yet.” 

“Babe, it’s okay if you’re not feeling up to socializing,” Kent presses. “Speaking of, I should text Jack to cancel.” 

“Don’t you dare, he’s coming from Providence,” Bitty says fiercely. “I don’t even know why I’m sad all of a sudden, I’ll get over it soon.” 

“Eric,” Kent says seriously. “It’s okay to miss your family.” 

“Why would I be missing them?” Bitty laughs hollowly. “It’s been years, and I was the one who left. And everything’s going great.” 

“Did you miss Jack even after the fight?” Kent asks pointedly. Bitty slowly looks away from Kent. “And you haven’t known Jack for even half as long as you knew your family. Bitty, babe, do you think I don’t miss my dad sometimes?” 

“But he was awful,” Bitty says immediately, before closing his mouth abruptly, flushing. 

“Sometimes he was nice,” Kent says, shrugging. He’s trying for casual, but Bitty can see the strain of it. “I remember one birthday, he got me this model airplane kit, and we spent the rest of the day building it and painting it. It was nice.” 

Bitty doesn’t ask what happened to the airplane. He wets his lips carefully. 

“Mama and I would-- we’d ice gingerbread cookies, and she’d always give me a new apron every year, and Coach and I would throw a football around for a bit, and Christmas, at least, was always easy,” Bitty says in a rush. “And, I miss it. I know I shouldn’t because I walked away, but I miss the history that’s lost now, you know?” 

“The baby stories,” Kent puts in. 

“Yeah, and the pictures and them and all the stuff I had to leave behind,” Bitty continues. “My trophies, my first pair of skates-- it’s not much, compared to everything I have now, but-- I’m allowed to feel sad, right? Even if I’m the one who lost what’s missing?” 

Kent pulls him into a hug, and Bitty goes easily. They stand there for a while, just soaking each other up. Then the doorbell rings. 

“God, it’s Jack, and I’m a mess,” Bitty sniffs, pulling away. 

“I’ll get the door,” Kent says, wincing as he moves slowly. Bitty puts a hand on Kent’s arm to stop him. 

“Sweetpea, you just sit somewhere, okay? I’ll get the door,” Bitty says quietly, wiping the last of the tears from his face.  

“Bitty,” Kent protests, but Bitty just guides him to sit at the table before going to answer the door. 

Jack smiles down at Bitty, hair tucked until a vivid teal beanie, cheeks just the slightest bit pink from the cold. His smile falls as he takes in Bitty. 

“What’s wrong?” Jack asks, eyes scanning Bitty, checking for injuries. When Jack doesn’t find anything wrong, he takes a step in, looking around the entryway and into the living room. “Where’s Kent?” 

“In the kitchen!” Kent calls, and Jack barely takes the time to take his shoes off, grabbing Bitty’s hand and striding into the kitchen. 

“What’s wrong?” Jack demands when he sees Kent seated at the table, idly tracing patterns on the top with his finger. Kent looks up, and barely stops laughing at the sight of Jack still in his windbreaker and beanie. 

“Did you make that hat yourself?” Kent asks. 

“Why is Bitty crying?” Jack asks. 

“It’s nothing,” Bitty insists. “Just, holiday blues.” 

“Babe, that’s not a real thing,” Kent points out, pulling the chair next to him out and patting the seat while looking at Bitty. Jack sits down instead and raises an eyebrow at Bitty until Bitty realizes what Jack’s getting at and sits in his lap. 

“Talk to me,” Jack murmurs into Bitty’s hair, breathing in the smell of the shampoo Bitty and Kent share and something that’s just Bitty. “I’m here.” 

Bitty takes a shaky breath and settles into Jack’s embrace more. 

“I just-- miss Georgia,” Bitty admits. 

“You hated it there,” Jack says, brows drawing together in confusion. Kent swats him on the arm. “What? It’s true.” 

“He means he misses his family, bud,” Kent says, rolling his eyes. Jack’s eyes widen in realization. 

“I know it’s stupid, because I was the one who chose to leave,” Bitty continues. 

“No, they-- Bittle, they wouldn’t accept you,” Jack interjects. “You couldn’t live like that. They didn’t give you any other choice.” 

“It still feels like I had a choice,” Bitty chuckles wetly, tilting his chin up to look at the ceiling. “God, I don’t-- I don’t know how to do this.” 

“Do what?” Kent asks. “Babe, it’s okay to miss your parents.” 

Bitty pushes against Jack’s arms, and Jack’s too surprised to do anything but let Bitty stand up and pace in front of them. 

“I don’t know how to miss my parents, and I don’t know how to not be angry at you, Jack, for what you did, and I don’t know how to be angry when I still love you this much, and I don’t know how to fix a relationship after it’s been broken, I’ve been trying so hard, and I’ve tried so hard with other people, but it’s never worked with them, and so why would it work now?” Bitty cries, stopping his pacing to lean against one of the walls. 

“Whoa, I thought this was just about your parents,” Kent exclaims, looking wide-eyed at Jack. 

Bitty pulls at his hair. 

“It is! Or at least, it was about that, and then I saw you Jack, and I-- I thought I could do the mature thing, and try to get to a better place, but I’m so scared that I’m going to lose you,” Bitty says helplessly. 

“Bitty,” Jack starts, then stops for a moment, chewing on his lip for a moment before speaking again. “When you say you, who do you mean?” 

“What, no, Bitty, you can’t possibly be scared that I’d leave you,” Kent protests, moving to stand up. 

Bitty’s quiet. Jack puts a hand on Kent’s shoulder, and Kent deflates, sinking back into his chair, before nodding at Jack. Jack nods back before going to sit on the floor in front of Bitty, who slides down the wall and curls his face into his knees. 

“Bud, you’re going to have to talk to us,” Jack say softly. 

“I know, I just-- lord this is so embarrassing,” Bitty whispers. 

“Can’t be worse than the time I tripped over a skate lace at practice that one time,” Jack teases. 

“Oh man, Zimms, did you forget to tuck in the ends? I always told you to,” Kent guffaws, before his chuckles die down as Bitty raises his head. 

“See, this is what I’m fucking talking about!” Bitty exclaims. 

“What do you mean?” Jack asks. 

“You-- you two! You’re just, there’s so much history between the two of you, and you’ve already done the thing where you forgive each other and move on. How can I possibly compete with that?” Bitty says. 

“What the fuck, Bitty?” Kent exclaims. “ _ I’m  _ married to you! I proposed!” 

“Kent, that’s not helping,” Jack says patiently before turning back to Bitty. “Bitty, we only became friends again after you were there to bridge the gap. We couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Please, you both have therapists, you would have gotten around to it eventually,” Bitty dismisses, rolling his eyes as he sniffs. 

“Okay, even if that’s true, which it’s not,” Kent interjects. “It doesn’t change the fact that I love you, and I married you, and, I don’t know, we’re starting a family together.” 

“But why would you stay with me when you could have Jack?” Bitty asks. “I’m just. Me. I don’t even have a real job. I’m mooching off of you.” 

“You’re my partner, that’s-- you’re not mooching off of me, I’m sharing with you,” Kent says in disbelief. “And what do you mean, when I could have Jack? No offense Jack. I thought we already talked about this.” 

“No, we talked about me leaving you for Jack,” Bitty corrects. “We didn’t say anything about you.” 

“If you wouldn’t leave me for Jack, than why on earth would I leave you for Jack?” Kent asks again, flabbergasted. 

“Yeah, Bitty, I really don’t think you have to worry about that, we’d probably kill each other within a week,” Jack chimes in. 

“I-- logically know that, but emotionally, I just,” Bitty says helplessly. “You’ve known each other since you were 16. I’m jealous of that history, more than I’m jealous of you two together. I just-- I don’t have that with anyone. I’ll never have that with anyone.” 

Jack looks at Kent, who just shrugs. 

“Can I hug you?” Jack finally says, chewing on his lip as Bitty stares at him. 

“Take your jacket off first, please,” Bitty finally says, and the jacket’s hitting the kitchen floor before Bitty gets the last word out, and Jack’s hugging him. Bitty melts into the embrace. 

“Oh, that’s nice,” he murmurs into Jack’s ear, who just hums. 

“I think you should see your therapist more,” Kent suggests carefully, rubbing his bump as he watches them on the floor. 

“You’re probably right, but I want to stop talking about this now,” Bitty says, voice muffled by Jack’s shoulder. “It’s Christmas.” 

“Okay,” Jack says quietly. “I’m glad to be here.” 

“Really?” Bitty asks, tilting back so he can look at Jack’s face. “Even after that explosion of emotions?”

“I’d rather you talk to us than you didn’t,” Jack points out thoughtfully. “Not talking didn’t go so great for us before.”

“He’s right,” Kent puts in. “I’m glad you said something.”

“Just feels like I ruined Christmas, but enough talking about my feelings, I promise I’ll do it today,” Bitty said, wiping his eyes on the sleeves of his cable-knit sweater. 

Jack picks his jacket back up and rummages through the pockets until he pulls out a white cotton handkerchief and offers it to Bitty, who takes it with a grateful, albeit watery, smile. 

“Thank you,” Bitty says finally, getting up and handing the handkerchief back to Jack, who ignores it in favor of raising his eyebrows at Bitty as if to say _ really? _

“Oh right, I’ll put it in the laundry basket,” Bitty says, moving out of the kitchen. 

Jack and Kent watch him leave for a moment before turning back to each other. 

“So how much food has he made?” Jack asks. 

“Oh bud, we’re going to be eating this on Valentine’s Day,” Kent guffaws, before standing up and pulling Jack into a hug.

“Missed ya, Zimms,” Kent whispers, and he can feel how Jack sharply inhales at that in surprise. One of the babies chooses the moment to kick, hard, and Kent reflexively reaches a hand down to rub at that spot. 

“Hey, I thought you said that you missed me,” Jack says as he pulls away, expression weird. Kent can’t parse it, but he’s more focused on trying to get the babies to stop kicking. 

“Yeah, I did,” Kent says absently, humming as he sits back down and rubs the swell of his belly, trying to get the babies to calm down. 

“Why did you-- sucker punch me?” Jack asks, confused, sitting down next to Kent. 

Bitty chooses that moment to reenter the kitchen, face freshly washed. Kent opens his arms for Bitty, and Bitty gives him an awkward hug and a quick kiss on the cheek before detouring to the fridge and taking containers of food out. 

“I didn’t sucker punch you,” Kent says, watching Bitty. 

“Well, you like, hit my stomach,” Jack insists, looking at Bitty quickly before turning back to Kent. “You’ve gotten soft since retiring, too, Kenny, that was a weak hit.” 

“I didn’t hit you!” Kent protests, before the full implications of what Jack’s said sinks in. Bitty puts the plate he just took out of a cabinet down and looks at Kent. 

“Really, then what was that, a Christmas elf?” Jack snorts, laughing at his own joke, before furrowing his brows as Bitty comes closer. 

“Kent, are they-- are they kicking?” Bitty asks breathlessly, reaching out a hand, but looking to Kent for permission before reverently touching Kent’s bump. 

“Yeah,” Kent says, mind racing.

 He pulls his shirt up and puts Bitty’s hand back on the bare skin of his bump and grabs Jack’s hand too. The moment Jack puts his hand on Kent’s skin, the babies kick in almost perfect unison: one against Bitty’s hand and the other against Jack’s. 

“Oh my god,” Bitty says, already crying, his free hand going to cover his mouth. “Did they just--?” 

Kent just nods. 

“Were you waiting for Jack to get here before kicking that hard?” Kent coos to his belly. “I know you could have kicked for Ma, but you wanted to impress Jack, huh?” 

Kent looks up, smiling at Jack, and is surprised to find Jack crying. Kent puts his hand on top of Bitty’s and when Bitty looks at him, angles his head towards Jack subtly. 

“Oh no, what’s wrong?” Bitty says frantically. “Why are you crying?”

“You’re crying too,” Jack sniffs, scrunching his eyes in a clear effort to prevent tears from running down his face, but to no avail. 

“I just spent hours talking about my feelings, it’s your turn, Mr. Zimmerman,” Bitty says pertly, straightening up from where he was bent over Kent’s bump, but keeping one hand on Kent and putting his free hand on his hip. He’d almost look intimidating if it weren’t for the navy-blue apron he was wearing and the tears on his own face. 

“It wasn’t hours,” Kent corrects, but Bitty waves him off. 

“I just-- how am I going to fit?” Jack asks, face doing something complicated. “Am I just going to be Uncle Jack, who has sleepovers sometimes? What are we doing?” 

“Wow, we’re not pulling our punches this Christmas are we,” Kent comments, sitting back in his chair. 

Bitty casts a longing glance at the food on the countertop, but chooses instead to sit on the table in between Kent and Jack, hopping up a bit. The table’s high enough that he can swing his legs, and he does for a second before he nearly hits Jack’s knee. 

“Well, we’re still kind of figuring out what we’re going to be,” Kent says after it becomes clear Bitty and Jack are content to sit in silence until the other speaks. He gestures between the three of them awkwardly before dropping his hands. 

“What are we, then?” Jack pushes. 

Kent looks at Bitty, who just shrugs. And then Kent realizes something else. 

“Oh shit,” Kent says, and he can feel himself pale, which he thought only happened in books. 

“What’s wrong?” Jack says, and wow, they’ve been saying that a lot today, Kent notes. 

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” Kent rushes to reassure Jack as he looks at Bitty, who tilts his head at Kent in confusion. “Uh, Jack, maybe you should-- Bitty and I need to talk really fast for a second, but it’s not going to be about anything bad, we just-- have to talk.” 

By the look on Jack’s face, Kent has done a spectacular job of stirring up old anxieties, which is the opposite of what Kent was aiming for, but it gets Jack out of the room for a moment so that Kent can turn to Bitty. 

“We haven’t told him about the babies,” Kent hisses as soon as he can’t see Jack anymore. 

“Shit we haven’t looked at the test results either,” Bitty realizes, blood draining from his face. 

“What are you talking about?” Kent huffs, crossing his arms. Bitty just jumps off the table to rummage in one of the drawers before returning with an envelope. 

“Who sent you a physical letter?” Kent asks in disbelief. 

“I requested it specially,” Bitty murmurs, ripping the envelope open in sloppy, rough tears that miraculously don’t cause the paper inside to tear. 

“What is it?” Kent asks impatiently, barely resisting the urge to start tapping his foot. 

“The test, you know, to find out the parentage?” Bitty starts. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe we forgot about that test,” Kent says, making grabby hands at the envelope. 

“Shit, do we read it with him?” Bitty insists, handing Kent the letter. Kent sets it down on the table without reading it. 

“Did you already read the letter?” Kent demands. 

“Babe, I just opened the letter in front of you, obviously I haven’t,” Bitty answers patiently. “Look, I just-- what was the plan going to be? Do we tell Jack? Do we not? What if they look like him and we haven’t told him yet? What then?” 

“Babe, you’re flattering me if you think I’ve thought that far ahead,” Kent points out.  

“I mean, that’s true. But, it would be good to know their health history, yeah? Preemptive treatment,” Bitty points out. 

“We have incredible healthcare, this doesn’t matter,” Kent tries, but he knows he’s losing the battle. 

“Yeah, but why not take this chance? It’s not like I know my family’s history,” Bitty says quietly. “I don’t-- I want to give them all the opportunity we can, Kent. And we can give them a lot.”  

“Why-- it’s Christmas, when did we get the lab results?” Kent demands. 

“A week ago, when you were out with Iz,” Bitty says, sitting down in the chair Jack vacated. 

“And you’re bringing this up today?” Kent exclaims. 

“Well, I only just remembered when you pointed out that we haven’t told him about how we’re having twins, and if we’re talking about stuff we haven’t told him, then we haven’t told him he could be a father,” Bitty points out. 

“Don’t you think he would have brought it up by now if he cared?” Kent says. “I mean, we all had sex ed, we had unprotected sex during my heat, it doesn’t take a genius to add those two up.” 

“Didn’t he just bring it up?” Bitty says gently. “He just asked if he was going to be Uncle Jack. And-- if he wants it, I want us to be together. And I don’t want him to be Uncle Jack.” 

“I feel that way too,” Kent groans. “Fuck, we have to talk to him.”

“Yep,” Bitty commiserates. “We can’t have this discussion without him.” 

“I should probably look at the test results,” Kent says. “I know I agreed to this, but I honestly just don’t care.” 

“I could look,” Bitty offers. 

“No, I don’t want you to look either,” Kent says petulantly. “You’re terrible at keeping secrets, you wouldn’t be able to hide this from me.” 

“I can try!” Bitty insists. 

“No dice. Go get Jack,” Kent says imperiously, waving Bitty away. 

“Fine,” Bitty sighs, getting up and leaving the kitchen. 

Alone in the kitchen, Kent’s attention is immediately directed to the piece of paper lying innocently on the table, like it doesn’t have the power to make or break his family. He strokes his belly, and looks at it consideringly. He’s about to reach for it when Jack and Bitty re-enter the room, and he chooses to smile in what he hopes is a reassuring way at Jack. It must do the trick, because Jack’s shoulders relax a bit-- not completely, but enough to satisfy Kent, who can’t remember the last time he saw Jack completely relaxed. 

“So, we were talking, and then we realized we can’t have this conversation without you,” Bitty starts. 

“And why is that?” Jack asks warily. 

“Calm down, we’re not breaking up with you,” Kent says, rolling his eyes. 

“Well, we’re not technically dating, but we want to be,” Bitty corrects. “But we-- what do you want Jack?”

“I want to date too,” Jack says immediately, smiling. “Seriously. Like. You know.” 

“Is that all you want?” Kent says, trying not to sound hopeful, rubbing the swell of his stomach. Jack tracks Kent’s hand for a stroke down, stroke up, before lifting his eyes to look at Kent. 

“What are you asking?” Jack says slowly, turning to look at Bitty. 

“Do you want to be Uncle Jack?” Bitty prompts, looking at Kent to say the next part, but one of the babies chooses that moment to kick, and Kent is suddenly too terrified to speak. To know the answer, because it could be the wrong one. He didn’t know until this moment that not only does he want to hear Jack say no, but that he didn’t know how the relationship would work if Jack says yes. And it’s not exactly a test, but suddenly it feels that way to Kent, and he knows that Jack feels that way too. 

Jack’s quiet. The kitchen is nearly silent, the hum of the heating and Kent’s  breaths buried under the loud beat of his heart. 

“I don’t,” Jack finally says, and Kent feels the breath he had unconsciously been holding leave him in whoosh. “I-- I never thought I’d have a kid, but I’ve always wanted to be a parent. I don’t know exactly how this all would work, but I want it. Us. Everything you’ll give me.”

“We want that too,” Bitty says softly, before looking at Kent. “So there are some things you should know, that we would have told you either way, but-- it’s easier now. A little bit.” 

“Sit down, Jack,” Kent says, patting the seat next to him. Jack looks at Bitty, who nods encouragingly, before sitting. Kent slides the envelope to Jack, who picks it up and then gives Kent a confused look. 

“Why are you giving me this? It’s addressed to you,” Jack points out. 

“So, this is a little awkward to explain,” Kent starts and tries to figure out how to say the next bit, before giving up and looking to Bitty, who makes a face at Kent but drags a chair over so they’re seated in a loose triangle. 

“So, Kent’s having twins,” Bitty says with all the tact of a speeding train. 

“Oh, that-- that explains a lot,” Jack says. 

Kent opens his mouth to retort, but Bitty gives him a quelling look. 

“And because you also fucked Kent during his last heat, one of them might be yours,” Bitty finishes. 

They watch anxiously as Jack processes that, his forehead scrunching in confusion.

“I get how two of them could be mine, but how could only one of them be mine?” Jack wonders. 

“Something to do with feces,” Kent says blithely, but Bitty elbows him. 

“No, it’s superfecundation. It’s apparently pretty common for omegas who have multiple partners during their heat,” Bitty explains. 

“If it’s that common, why I haven’t I heard of it before?” Jack asks. 

“Because, college boy, it’s not common for omegas to have multiple partners,” Kent explains slowly. 

“You’re really enjoying knowing something I don’t,” Jack notes, not without humor. “So the envelope is what, paternity test results?” 

“Yes, exactly,” Bitty says. “You’re taking this pretty well.” 

“Well, you’re willing to try us again, and I get something I never thought I’ve had. Everything else is just a bonus, really,” Jack says earnestly. 

“Zimms, you’re such a sap,” Kent says fondly. “Now open the envelope already.”

“Wait, you want me to open it?” Jack stutters. “I thought-- you guys don’t already know?”

“Well-- it doesn’t change anything right? And it didn’t feel right to do it without you,” Kent says, looking down at the table. 

Jack looks at the envelope and is filled with the brief, mad desire to tear it into as many pieces as he can. 

“I-- but it does kind of change things for me,” Jack says, regretting saying that as Bitty’s and Kent’s faces change in reaction to that. 

“What do you mean, honey?” Bitty says, touching Jack’s arm. 

The endearment and the contact ground Jack, and he breathes in before he finishes his train of thought. 

“Bitty, earlier you were talking about how you don’t feel like you fit because of the history Kent and I have, but I’m the one who doesn’t fit,” Jack says, looking at the envelope. His vision blurs until he can’t read the address on the envelope, but he doesn’t look up. 

“You-- you two are married. You’ve been together for so long, and successfully. I’ve never been able to maintain a long-term relationship, with either of you or anyone else,” Jack manages to get up. He blinks rapidly and then looks up at Kent, whose face is neutral, and Bitty, who looks shocked. 

“And I want to try, but you know how it can be with my anxiety, and not knowing-- this is hard to say. But knowing one of those kids is mine? That means I’d always have a place at the table, that I’m just as much a part of this as you two are, and-- it shouldn’t matter. But it does,” Jack finishes and looks down again. 

“Jack, of course you’re as much a part of this as we are,” Bitty immediately reassures. 

“Zimms, if you need to know, you gotta know,” Kent reassures. “If it would make you feel better, then yeah, open the damn envelope.” 

“And we’ll happily spend the rest of our lives reassuring you that this is where you belong, sweetpea,” Bitty says tenderly. “I’m glad you said something.”

Jack gives them a shaky smile. He doesn’t know what to say, so he settles for carefully opening the envelope. He can tell by the way Kent’s fingers fidget on the table that Kent would like Jack to speed up, but he doesn’t hurry. 

Finally, the letter is in his hand. He unfolds it methodically and then reads it carefully. Then he looks up and laughs. 

“Why are you laughing?” Bitty asks. 

“I-- I don’t know what this means,” Jack says between laughs. 

Bitty looks over Jack’s shoulder and starts chuckling too. 

“Wow, this is just gibberish,” Bitty agrees. 

“Oh my god, give me that,” Kent scoffs, taking the letter from Jack and reading through it. “Seriously, you both can’t understand this?” 

“Oh, I can, I just wanted you to see it,” Jack says, chuckling. 

“Well, I actually can’t figure this out,” Kent pouts, leaning back in the chair. 

“Well, I know it says that these babies are definitely yours, Kent,” Bitty says, smiling. 

“No duh,” Kent responds, rubbing his bump. 

“And one of them is mine,” Jack says softly. “And one is yours, Bitty.” 

He slips out of his chair and kneels down in front of Kent. He looks up at Kent, who just smiles at him, bemused. When Jack slowly tugs at the hem of Kent’s shirt, Kent just nods. Jack slowly pushes Kent’s shirt up, revealing his pregnant belly. Jack reaches a hand out to Bitty, who takes it and squeezes it. 

And then Jack leans down and carefully kisses Kent’s belly. 

“Hello, little ones,” he murmurs against Kent’s warm skin. “I can’t wait to meet you both.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at ravenreyamidala.

**Author's Note:**

> basically, i saw that there was hardly any mpreg stories in the bittyparse/PB&J tags, and told myself to be the change in this world I wanted to see. but this, again, wouldn't exist with the posse.


End file.
